


burned out flames should never reignite

by 210pm



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, chuuves somewhere in there idk ur gonna have to squint, jinsoul doesn't know how to act, neither does jungeun tho, pretty much just jinsoul and jungeun being idiots in love, set in new york concrete jungle where dreams are made of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/210pm/pseuds/210pm
Summary: They figure it out four years after they’re supposed to.Jinsoul thinks later is better than never.or where Jinsoul’s a model, Jungeun’s a CEO, and they’re both just trying their best
Relationships: Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 19
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

Jungeun comes back into Jinsoul’s life four years after she leaves it.

She had left in the winter amidst a whirlwind of scathing words, muted confessions, and emotions that had been kept at a low simmer for far too long and had reached their inevitable boiling point.

She returns during the summer 4 years later with wide eyes that shone with barely suppressed hints of something and the traces of an almost smile dancing delicately across her red-painted lips.

(Time hadn’t changed them, Jinsoul supposes. There was always a _something_ and always an _almost_ between her and Jungeun.)

New York had been Jinsoul’s home for a year now and she still hadn’t gotten used to the bustle of the streets and the people. Her life had gotten even more nonstop since she moved during the summer of last year, leaving behind everything and everyone she knew in Seoul.

(Jungeun used to be her home back in Seoul. When she left, it just became another place with mismatched memories that seemed vacant now that Jungeun was gone and ghosts that she was too scared to confront.)

Jinsoul’s never liked big cities. While some people sought after the massive buildings and the night-life glamour, the appeal never really landed for her. She always thought they were too busy and too noisy, a headache-inducing mixture in her opinion.

Yves Saint Laurent’s top models were located in New York, though, so with all things considered (Read: a steady income that kept her clothed, fed, and off the streets), she can reason with the disgruntled part of herself that, in essence, the city wasn’t _too_ bad.

(Jinsoul still kind of really hates it, though. The streets smell like literal pee and there’s no part of her mind that can reason around that.)

Unlike her, Jungeun had always loved the city so it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise that Jinsoul would run into her there, among the hustle and movement that seemed to be a constant characteristic of the skyscraper city she lived in. A characteristic that also seemed to embody Jungeun from when she knew her.

After all, Jungeun could never slow down or stop back when she and Jinsoul were whatever they were.

_(_ A _something,_ an _almost.)_

While Jungeun could never stay still, Jinsoul was always stuck in one place. It was one of the reasons why the fragile facade they had created back in college had shattered, leaving them to pick up the pieces and continue on with whatever was left untouched by the disaster they left behind.

She’s seen Jungeun for a total of 15 seconds and, unsurprisingly, she can't seem to tear her eyes away. Looking at Jungeun now, Jinsoul wonders how, out of the two of them, she was the one who became the world famous runway model. With Jungeun’s hand loosely scrambling to grab the purse that was beginning to fall out of her hands and her brown hair swept haphazardly over her left shoulder, Jinsoul thinks she looked just as perfect as the day she had last seen her.

(Jungeun’s cheeks had been stained with tears that night and her eyes had held more pain than love but Jinsoul still thought she looked beautiful.)

Jinsoul continues to stare at Jungeun, which she by all means thinks is a warranted and fair reaction to seeing her former best friend after four years of severed ties. It’s not like she thought she’d ever see the other girl again.

(Sometimes, usually in the late hours of the night when there was nothing else to entertain besides her unwanted thoughts, Jinsoul would imagine a moment where she would encounter Jungeun after lifetimes apart.

She just really didn’t expect that moment to come in the middle of her local coffee shop while shoveling a half eaten lemon cake into her mouth.)

“...Jinsoul?”

Jinsoul blinks. She'd forgotten how good her name had sounded on Jungeun’s lips. She’d forgotten how it sounded and didn’t realize how much she had missed it until now.

“Jungeun, hey.”

Jinsoul swallows the solidifying clump of cake in her mouth, staring nervously at the girl in front of her as the food slips slowly down her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the dread she was feeling at the sight of Jungeun’s face that was making it travel so painstakingly slow or if it was just that the cake was too dry.

(Hyunjin never makes the cake too dry, though, so Jinsoul has to assume Jungeun was the root cause.

_…How_ _annoying_.)

They stare at each other for a few seconds after that, both unsure of what to do or what to say or how to act.

Again, Jinsoul thinks the staring is warranted.

It’s been years since their last interaction and the last time they had spoken had ended in screaming and tears and violent words that were regretted the instant they were delivered, scathing a path of unforgiveness and hurt in their wake.

Jinsoul doesn't think that screaming and slamming doors was the correct way to approach seeing her old best friend, but that’s how Jinsoul remembers Jungeun— the screaming and slamming doors. She chose to obscure the good and amplify the bad. After all, how was Jinsoul supposed to get over Jungeun if she remembered the good?

(The late night drives with the entire world ahead of them, the playing in the rain puddles during one particularly bad storm during their second year, the waking up to Jungeun tucked into the space between her shoulder and her neck as if it had been carved specifically for her.

Maybe Jinsoul never really did quite get over her.)

Jungeun is the first one to make a move, taking a step forward towards Jinsoul, her brown eyes swimming with traces of confusing emotions: fear, surprise, and the barest hints of relief.

Eyes flitting nervously around the small room, they seem to land on every figure and every item in the shop except Jungeun. She doesn’t have much of a choice to look at Jungeun when she’s right in front of her, though.

_She’s beautiful._ The small voice in Jinsoul’s head that she had forced so desperately into the recesses of her mind four years ago, the voice that always seemed to chant _Jungeun, Jungeun, Jungeun_ on an endless loop, resurfaces as soon as Jinsoul is hit with the scent of vanilla, roses, and the barest, yet all too familiar, hint of something specifically Jungeun. 

Her eyes widen and her brain scrambles for some sense of control as waves of memories come crashing onto her in a debilitating downpour. Vaguely, Jinsoul remembers reading something a long time ago, a mocking saying that claims sometimes senses can drag up lost memories.

After spending far too long shoving everything that had happened into a hole deep enough to swallow cities, Jinsoul thought she had lost the memories of her and Jungeun melted together on late evenings after class, the ones where she was wrapped so tightly around Jungeun that she thought nothing would be able to break them apart.

(She was wrong, of course. She learned the hard way that everything is breakable.)

“You’re here…in New York?” Jungeun looks at her with something akin to awe, as if she couldn’t believe she was truly in front of her.

Jinsoul couldn’t blame her. She was itching to reach out and close the few inches that kept them apart just to see if Jungeun was real _,_ if Jungeun was here.

“Yeah, I live here now,” Jinsoul awkwardly shrugs her shoulders, weakly gesturing to the shop around her. “But, my friend owns this place.”

Jungeun nodded at that, taking the break in conversation as an opportunity to glance quickly around the coffee shop they were in.

“It’s nice. Very...New York,” Jungeun notes, shifting her weight unevenly from foot to foot.

“Well, we’re in New York so that makes sense.”

_Kill me now._

Jungeun stares at her in silence for a moment after that, her eyes trained on Jinsoul’s static body and her lips slowly cracking into a fond half-smile.

“Nice observation. You sure have gotten smarter, huh?” Jungeun teases, gesturing to the chair in front of Jinsoul on the opposite side of the table. Nodding frantically, Jinsoul returns the gesture with an open palm allowing Jungeun to sit.

“So...how are you?” Jungeun speaks first. She seems to have been doing most of the firsts today.

“Good, uh you know. Just working pretty much all the time,” Jinsoul locks her fidgeting hands together in her lap. “How about you?”

Jungeun grips the strap of her (rather expensive looking) purse with a shrug of her shoulders. “Working. What do you do now?”

(Jungeun says this as if she hasn’t been following Jinsoul’s professional success through the tabloids and as if she doesn’t have the keyword Jinsoul Jung bookmarked on her news alerts.)

“Oh, I model. That’s why I’m here, actually. For modeling.”

“That’s nice, it’s a beautiful city,” Jungeun nods in understanding.

“Yeah, it is. Why...why are you here?” Jinsoul asks in response, her blank expression attempting rather horribly to mask her awfully strong curiosity.

Jungeun pauses for a moment, her posture straightening and her hands folding neatly into her lap.

“Oh, I’m actually the head of a biomedical company,” Jungeun pauses, her words stalling. Jinsoul gives her a dim smile of encouragement, assuring her that she wants to hear what Jungeun has to say. “We help commercialize new-to-market technology for clinical use. It was just a small start-up a few years ago but it actually turned into…something so we thought it would be smart to branch out to the states. You know, invest overseas.”

(Humorlessly, Jinsoul thinks this all makes sense— the entire thing.

Jungeun being the hotshot CEO of some corporation that she helped build from the ground up. Jinsoul getting paid to walk across some long strip of concrete while being bombarded with camera flashes and the pressures of the fashion industry constantly bringing her to a standstill. Her crashing into Jungeun after their lives had been dragged separate ways only to be brought back together in a different country for two completely different reasons. 

All so very different, yet somehow it still works and somehow it was still so _Jungeun and Jinsoul_. It scares her.)

Jinsoul doesn’t have anything else to say to the woman in front of her besides, “Wow, you must be really proud.”

“Yeah, oddly enough I really am” Jungeun looks at her with a soft smile and a soft voice brimming with pride and achievement.

“I...yeah, I’m proud of you too.”

Jinsoul doesn’t really care if that was the wrong thing to say, if it was overstepping some invisible boundaries that the two of them had established over the four year course of them not speaking, because it was the truth. Everything else aside, Jinsoul is so proud of Jungeun.

“Thank you, Jinsoul,” Jungeun says with more warmth in her voice than before and what looks like something dangerously similar to love in her eyes.

(Somewhere deep within her, buried in the romantic and hopeless part of herself, Jinsoul thinks the love never really left Jungeun’s eyes. She just needed to see Jinsoul again for it to come back.)

“So, how are you liking New York? Honestly, I never thought I’d run into you here,” Jungeun continues, tilting her head in that way she always used to do when she was asking a question.

Jinsoul laughs at this, memories of them sitting side-by-side on the floor of Jinsoul’s dorm room discussing their future needs, wants, and desires playing like a vintage motion picture in the forefront of her mind.

“I didn’t really want to live in the city. It’s just job stuff,” Jinsoul explains with a downplayed shrug. “It’s been okay though.”

Jungeun nods in understanding, drumming her trimmed blood-red fingernails against the wooden table they were seated at.

One moment of silence stretching into five, Jinsoul gulps before continuing the conversation.

“So, how do you like it? New York, that is.”

“Business wise, it’s been a great move. I’m happy I did it.”

When Jungeun went silent again after that, Jinsoul knew that wasn't it. Even after four years apart, she still knew Jungeun like the back of her hand and she knew when the girl seated silently across from her had more to say.

(Jungeun always had more to say, Jinsoul had come to learn during their past friendship. Whether it be in the middle of a lecture hall debate with one of the knuckleheads from their dorms or during one of her infamous movie commentations, Jungeun Kim _always_ had more to say. Jinsoul also found out that she really liked to listen.)

“Yeah, but how do _you_ like it here?” Jinsoul asked. “I mean like, not as boss Jungeun or whatever but just...you.”

Looking up from her hands and releasing her worried lip from between her teeth, Jungeun regards her with open interest before responding.

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s beautiful and everything I expected.”

Internally, Jinsoul smiles bitterly. Jungeun had always been overly fascinated with big cities. When they were younger, she always used to tell Jinsoul that she would drag her to one of the urban centers of the world and force Jinsoul to live there with her in an apartment too small for them cramped together with two cats, two dogs, and one fish per Jinsoul’s insistence.

_(You’d come with me, right? You’d follow me?_

_Yeah, Jungeun. I would._

_Even if you hated it?_

_Even if I hated it.)_

Jinsoul knew there was a _but_ coming, she could tell by the way Jungeun had paused and her mouth had stayed open, her thoughts stalled but still on their way out.

“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s just...lonely. Lonelier than I had expected,” Jungeun finishes, nodding to herself in confirmation. Her vacant brown eyes seemed sad at the admittance, a contrast to the fake smile painted on her lips.

(Some small part of Jinsoul thinks that Jungeun’s only lonely because she doesn’t have Jinsoul with her like she would’ve when she pictured it four years ago.)

Maybe it was too soon to say it, maybe Jungeun still hates her, maybe Jungeun was pitying her while talking to her right now but in all honesty, Jinsoul doesn’t _care._ All she knows is that she really _really_ misses Jungeun. Four years later and she still really misses her.

(Pathetic, maybe. Expected, absolutely.)

She supposes the acute discomfort of missing Jungeun that’s burrowed into her chest is what prompts her to say, “Well, you don’t have to feel lonely anymore. I mean, I’m here now. You have me here.”

Jungeun looks up at Jinsoul, her cheeks colored with a light blush and her sharp eyes wide with anticipation. There was clear surprise written on her face, that surprise quickly morphing into simple confusion before transforming into something even simpler— happiness.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

  
  


—

  
  


They continue to meet regularly after that.

Jungeun had given Jinsoul her new phone number at the coffee shop after about 30 minutes of awkward small talk that slowly shifted into something more comfortable, something more them.

Jinsoul had debated texting Jungeun’s new number the days following their initial reunion, her mind dragging her fingers away from the keyboard while her heart continued to drum with a familiar ache.

Rationally, Jinsoul knew that it would be a bad idea to text her. There was a reason she and Jungeun didn’t work out the first time and despite all the books and films she had lived off of as a child stressing to her the importance of second chances, Jinsoul never really took the thought too seriously.

Sooyoung had called her an idiot when she had recounted the situation to her two days after she had seen Jungeun. She had met Sooyoung a few weeks after she moved to New York, the girl being in the same business as her and therefore running in the same close-knit, connected social circles.

_(You’re an idiot, Jinsoul._

_What? Why? If anything I’m being smart._

_Avoiding the girl who you’ve been in love with for the past, what, 8 years is not you being smart. It’s you being scared. Which means you’re being stupid.)_

So, after multiple written and deleted drafts, Jinsoul texted Jungeun.

**Jinsoul:** hey jungeun, it’s jinsoul! sorry it took awhile for me to reach out it’s been busy

Jinsoul had thrown her phone on the opposite side of her room afterwards, having put it on silent, do not disturb, and muting the recent iMessage conversation with Jungeun.

Going about with her normal nightly routine, Jinsoul then showered, brushed her teeth, and threw herself underneath the thick comforters on her bed, Jungeun becoming a faint afterthought in the back of her mind as she drifted off into a light sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, it was to one new notification in her messages app.

**Jungeun:** No worries, I understand. What’ve you been up to?

Deciding not to dwell on a response, Jinsoul types out a quick reply before shoving her phone in her back pocket, throwing on a scarf that Sooyoung had gotten her for her birthday, and heading out the door.

**Jinsoul:** i’ve got a show booked for next month so it’s just been a lot of rehearsals

When Jinsoul unlocks her phone later that evening after a full day of being told she needs to be prettier, needs to be skinnier, needs to be _more_ , the one thing she wants most in the world is a hot shower that could hide her tears and the blankets on her bed that could shield her body from any more of the scathing words that seemed to be steadily chipping more and more of her away everyday.

**Jungeun:** Wow, a show? That sounds exciting. A lot of work but exciting.

**Jungeun:** It sounds like we’re both pretty stressed out, maybe a coffee would help with that?

And with a few texts, the shadowed thoughts and doubts that had been infesting her mind for the past twelve hours are replaced with that soft and reassuring chorus of _Jungeun, Jungeun, Jungeun._

Jinsoul isn't going to respond, she really isn't because all she wants was a shower, her bed, and sleep.

(She wouldn’t admit this to anyone but when Jinsoul had looked down at her phone and reread the texts for the fourth time, she realized the only thing she really wanted was Jungeun.)

**Jinsoul:** it may be a little too late for a coffee but i know a really good mexican place on madison

**Jinsoul:** unless u’ve already eaten

**Jinsoul:** or if it’s too late

Right when Jinsoul was about to hit send on her fourth frantic text, her phone vibrates in her hands, igniting a spark of warmth curling up and around her fingers.

**Jungeun:** I haven’t eaten all day and Mexican sounds great. Where is it?

**Jinsoul:** i can pick u up?

**Jungeun:** Sure, I’ll send you my address.

After their stomachs are full of tacos and content with the sweet taste of horchata, Jinsoul finds herself driving around the vacant streets bordering the city with Jungeun smiling comfortably in the seat beside her.

Their cheeks are flushed from laughter and a warming sense of familiarity. With Jinsoul’s left hand resting lazily on the top of the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift, she spares a glance at the smiling girl next to her.

The moon made her glow, the subdued white light highlighting her silhouette in a mellow manner, softening her usually sharp features.

Jungeun looked younger in that moment, stripped of her suits and the business facade that she presented to her professional associates. In front of Jinsoul, she was softer— a little more human than what she was forced to show to the rest of the world.

The soft background hum of music was muted to her ears, all of her senses being filled and overcome with the girl sitting beside her, lazily tapping her fingers on her jean-covered thighs.

“Those tacos were unreal,” Jungeun sighs while throwing her head backwards, the white glow of moonlight shifting to trace along the length of her neck and sharpen the curve of her jawline.

Smirking smugly, Jinsoul’s lips open into a wide grin at the confession.

“Yeah, I found that spot when I first moved here and haven’t found anything better.”

“I’m thinking we should petition to register it as a historical landmark or something so the city can’t ever get rid of it,” Jungeun nods seriously as her eyes playfully wander across Jinsoul’s serene face.

“Agreed. Guess we’ll have to put that on our to-do list.”

The conversation falls into a quiet lull after that, the soft crunch of the gravel beneath Jinsoul’s tires being the only sound filling the air suffocating them. She wants to say something to the girl beside her, wants to pry open the Pandora’s box of feelings that they had closed, locked, and hidden when they had last spoken.

But, when allowing her eyes to be pulled away from the road and onto the sleepy girl’s languid form in the cushioned seat beside her, she can’t seem to bring herself to say the words she wants to say.

(Jinsoul knows that she would rather have a heel break on the runway during Paris Fashion Week than disrupt the fragile atmosphere that Jungeun seems to have found a semblance of peace within.)

Jungeun looks burnt out, and Jinsoul’s heart flares with sympathy for her.

Better than most, she knows what it’s like to be on top of the world yet feel like you’re buried six feet under. She knows what it’s like to achieve greatness, be on the covers of magazines, and have your life equated to the pinnacle of success but feel so _fucking exhausted_ at the same time. So, as she lets the image of Jungeun tucked into her seat with a content smile dancing comfortably on her bare lips flicker in and out of her sight, Jinsoul realizes that maybe silence is the best thing she could do for Jungeun right now.

Continuing to drive around the empty streets of New York, the shadows of the night being faithfully chased away by the street lamps illuminating the pavement surrounding her, Jinsoul wants nothing more than to keep driving forever, following the lights until they lead her out of the city and to a place far away from where she is now.

(She’d take Jungeun with her, of course.)

Jungeun’s sleep-laden voice is what breaks the silence filling the empty space of the vehicle, Jinsoul’s heartbeat quickening by two or three steps at the sound of it.

“The city is prettier at night,” The girl beside her whispers, her eyes trained on the moving picture of the skyscrapers and apartment buildings flashing in quick blurs before her.

“Hm?” Jinsoul hums, her eyes not breaking from the unending road in front, the hand limply laying on the gear shift tightening its hold as awaiting a response.

“New York. It’s so much prettier at night,” Jungeun continues, shifting her body to look ahead rather than to the side of her, still not completely facing Jinsoul but edging closer with every passing second. “It’s...just so much quieter.”

“Yeah. It’s peaceful at night,” Jinsoul murmurs in response, a shy smile replacing the thin line on her round cheeks. “Less people, less sound.”

Jungeun lazily smiles back, her shoulders rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

“I wish it could be like this all the time,” She pauses. “It’s just so busy. Feels like I never get a break.”

Jungeun wants to say something else, Jinsol can tell from the way she clenches her jaw and furrows her brow in the most minute and unnoticeable manner, but doesn’t. And, Jinsoul doesn’t know why her heart drops as she looks over to see Jungeun with her body turned back towards the world outside the car rather than their world inside it.

(Jinsoul used to be Jungeun’s world. She used to be the person Jungeun could talk to about anything she wanted whenever she wanted. Whether those talks be 3am conversations about how the world could be so unfair to the most deserving of people or why owls have such long legs, Jinsoul was always there.

But, she knows she’s not Jungeun’s world anymore.

Maybe that’s why she feels so sad.)

Desperate to make the other girl’s frown dissipate, for her to return to the content state she was swaddled in minutes ago, and for the desolate look to erase itself from her expression, Jinsoul speaks.

“This could be your break.”

Somehow, despite the almost imperceptible way the words were spoken, Jungeun seems to hear them, her head slowly rotating to face Jinsoul.

(If Jinsoul would look away from the road and at Jungeun, even if just for a moment, she would see the other girl staring at her as if she was the sole reason the earth spun on its axis, the stars hung in the sky at night, and the snow melted in the spring.)

“Sorry, what?” Jungeun asks softly, waiting for a response as she plays with the strings of her worn sweatshirt sleeves.

“Um,” Jinsoul gulps, her confidence leaving her within a matter of seconds and her grip on the steering wheel readjusting nervously. “This drive, it could be your break.”

Jungeun continues to stare, blinking but not speaking.

Jinsoul sighs, “What I mean is, whenever it feels like too much, we can drive around and get greasy food and talk about nothing for a little while.”

She breaks her words, hesitating yet again as she catches the wide-eyed stare belonging to the girl seated beside her.

“I can give you a break when you need one.”

After a few seconds, a voice cuts through the silence, wavering and thick with an almost tangible emotion.

(Was it fondness, relief, appreciation, love? Jinsoul couldn’t really tell.)

“I…” Jungeun breathes in, her voice breaking. “That would be nice. Thank you, Jinsoul.”

Jinsoul turns to look at Jungeun when she responds, turns to make eye contact with her because, really, she wants her to know she means what she said, wants Jungeun to know she would drop anything to drive her around New York at 3 o’clock in the morning if she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Jinsoul softly smiles, watching closely as the corners of Jungeun’s lips turn upwards to mirror hers. “Just text me or call me or whatever. I’ll come get you, no questions asked.”

The city seems to slow to a stop around them despite the motion of Jinsoul’s car still driving them forward into the night. When Jungeun looks at Jinsoul like _that_ (like she couldn’t get enough of her, like she wanted to take it all in at once just in case she never got another chance), Jinsoul couldn’t help but feel like the only time and the only place that existed at the moment was them, sitting inside the luxurious interior of Jinsoul’s car staring at each other like idiots with stars in their eyes.

Jungeun mumbles out something from beside her in a single breath, but Jinsoul’s ears are too filled with her brain’s favorite symphony of _Jungeun, Jungeun, Jungeun_ to catch what the younger girl had said.

“Did you say something?” Jinsoul tries, edging on desperation but still keeping one foot on the line of nonchalance.

Jungeun doesn’t respond for a second, staring at her shoes with a barely there smile sitting faithfully on her lips, before she looks up at Jinsoul.

“You’re…” Jungeun starts. “I just said thank you.”

(Jinsoul knows that’s not all she said but she also knows it’s not her place to try and get it out of her. They weren’t there yet, even if Jinsoul did just offer to be Jungeun’s free midnight Uber driver.)

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Jungeun’s mouth opens to protest, to argue that it definitely is a _problem_ because, honestly, who has the time to be carting around their ex-best friend through New York City in the middle of the night.

Jinsoul cuts her off before she can respond, “No, seriously. I mean it. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Jungeun scoffs at that. “You definitely have better things to do. Sleep. Sleep is one of those things.”

“I don’t sleep that much anyways,” Jinsoul shrugs. “Losing a few hours every now and then won’t hurt me.”

Jungeun doesn’t need to say thank you after that for Jinsoul to know that she’s grateful. Jinsoul can see the appreciation shining clearly in the other girl’s eyes.

They drive in silence for a little longer, Jinsoul turning on her car’s bluetooth system to fill the space with the music shuffled randomly on her phone. The soft sound of a barely audible song filters through the interior speakers, encasing them in a fuzzy and comfortable warmth as they both hum in tune with the lilts and smooth flow of the lyrics.

She looks over at Jungeun, half-asleep in the passenger's seat staring out the window with peace encapsulated in the fragments of stars glowing in her eyes.

Yeah, Jinsoul thinks she’s never letting her go again.

  
  


—

  
  


Jinsoul can count the number of people she trusts on one hand.

Sooyoung (…somehow). One finger down.

Hyunjin, old high school friend turned owner of her now favorite bakery. Another finger down.

Jungeun, making a comeback with a recent reentry on the list. A third finger.

And—

“ _JINSOUL!!!_ ”

Enter Chaewon, part-time college student, full-time TikTok star, Soundcloud rapper, and Youtube vlogger. The fourth finger and, as some sort of divine retribution for being born gay, her sister.

Her younger sister (who she sometimes thinks is more related to Sooyoung considering they both share Satan as a father) had flown down from South Korea to New York during the last bit of her summer break from school.

And, being the older sister and the only one out of the two of them with both a license and a car, Jinsoul was obligated to pick her devil of a sister up from the airport.

A decision which she was regretting more and more with each step and skip Chaewon took closer to her car’s side door.

“ _JINSOUL!”_ The shrill, seemingly helium-induced screech cuts through the air, the window, and Jinsoul’s eardrums once again.

_If she doesn’t shut the fu—_

“HELLOOO? JINSOUL _?!”_

“ _JESUS_ , CHAE I’M LIKE FIVE FEET AWAY FROM YOU STOP TRYING TO BREAK THE SOUND BARRIER!” Jinsoul rolls down her window to scream back at her sister, the girl’s small body nearly toppling under the weight of the two duffle bags in her arms and the XL suitcase being dragged on its side behind her.

“Well,” Chaewon’s voice lowers to a normal volume, although the original pitch is not lost in translation. “Maybe if you answered me the first time.”

Rolling her eyes, Jinsoul unlocks her side-doors as Chaewon approaches her car and throws her luggage into the backseat before climbing into the passenger’s seat. “I should have left you stranded here.”

“Uber exists, Jinsoul,” Chaewon scoffs, brushing a stray piece of glaringly blonde hair away from her face. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Scowling, “I was an Uber driver for _one_ month, Chae.”

“That’s one month more than the average supermodel.”

(Jinsoul loves her sister, she really does. So, she would call the urge to toss Chaewon’s small body out of the moving car sisterly love.)

Choosing not to respond, Jinsoul grits her teeth as she tightens her fingers around the wheel in a sweaty grip, the cool air of the outside world doing nothing to slow her agitated state. Chaewon tended to have that effect on her.

“How was your flight?” Jinsoul seethes while keeping her eyes glued to the road, refusing to glance at her sister’s infuriating baby face and risk the chance of unlocking the passenger-side door and acting on her urges.

“Decent,” Chaewon shrugs as she picks at her nails. “I slept for most of the flight over in First Class.”

“First class?” Jinsoul scowls. She rarely even flies first class and she’s the one with an actual career.

“Yeah. Turns out being famous has its perks,” Chaewon notes as she stretches her arms above her head. “Some lady recognized me from that one viral TikTok I made where I accidentally set Mom’s kitchen on fire.”

Jinsoul interrupts, “ _Wait_ , you set Mom’s kitchen on _fire_?”

“Yes, keep up, Jinsoul. Anyway, the lady said she was a fan and let me take her extra seat. Apparently her daughter got into a car accident on the way over so she had space!”

Breaking abruptly at a red light, “ _Wait,_ you took a seat from a mother whose daughter got into a _car accident?!_ ”

“God, stop asking the obvious questions,” The smaller blonde groans in exasperation, pausing when she glances over at her sister’s jaw hanging open in dismay. “What? It’s not like she had any use for it! Plus, she only broke her leg…and her arm…and a few other bones.”

“I keep telling mom to get you checked out,” Jinsoul murmurs more to herself than anyone else. “Therapy is an option, Chae.”

Scoffing, Chaewon waves her off. “Between TikTok, Soundcloud, and Youtube, do you really think I have time for therapy? Besides, being full of myself isn’t an illness, Jinsoul.”

“You forgot to put _college_ on your list but whatever. At least you’re acknowledging the issue,” Jinsoul heaves out a deep sigh. 

It’s silent in the car for a few minutes before Jinsoul speaks again. “We’ll go and drop off your bags at my place, and then you have me for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, _joy_ ,” Chaewon looks out the window in disinterest. “Just keep five feet from me when we’re walking. I don’t want anyone associating us with each other.”

“Chae, we’re sisters.”

“Exactly, so imagine how much my reputation would suffer if the world found out I was related to your ugly face.”

Jinsoul doesn’t speak for the rest of the car ride back to her apartment, focusing on her breathing and keeping her hands fixed securely on the steering wheel rather than around her sister’s neck.

When she pulls into her parking space and gets out of the car, Jinsoul ignores Chaewon’s pleas for help as the younger blonde succumbs under the weight of her bags upon bags of luggage.

(It’s the little moments that bring her the most joy.)

“You’re only going to be here for a couple of days. Why’d you pack your entire closet?” Jinsoul huffs as she sets one of Chaewon’s duffle bags down on the hardwood floor of her apartment.

“Photoshoots, duh,” Chaewon looks at her in dismay, throwing her remaining luggage onto Jinsoul’s floor carelessly. “I figured you could be useful for once and get me in touch with some of your model photographer friends.”

“Well, sorry but I don’t really have any,” Jinsoul grunts as she tries to move her sister’s bags from their spot in front of her doorway. “Model friends, yes. Photographer friends, not so much.”

(Jinsoul shudders thinking of all the burned bridges.

Turns out cursing and throwing things at paparazzi doesn’t do much for your name in the photography industry.)

“Hm, maybe that’s for the best. Once they got a look at me, they’d probably drop you as a client. My face is better for business,” The smaller blonde nods to herself while scanning her judgemental eyes over Jinsoul in a detailed manner. “ _Obviously_.”

“One more word and you’re sleeping on the streets,” Jinsoul’s face is grim, her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyebrows narrowing inwards. “And, unless you want to wake up covered in pee and garbage, that’s _not_ where you want to be spending the night.”

Eyes widening in alarm, Chaewon flashes Jinsoul a panicked smile as she nervously tightens her fur coat around her shoulders. “I was joking! You _know_ I think your face is...well, you know. It’s a decent looking face!”

Chaewon continues at the sight of Jinsoul’s unamused expression, “Come on, I love you sooo much, you’re the best sister ever! Seriously, you know I would _never_ make myself walk on New York’s grimy streets unless I had good reasons. And you and your above average looking face are the good reasons!”

Jinsoul cracks a smile at that, her eyes rolling fondly as she picks up one of her sister’s bags. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t ass kiss, it’s not becoming.”

“Don’t bring ass into this,” Chaewon mutters, her twitchy smile curling downwards into a dejected frown. “You know yours is better. It’s the _one_ thing you have on me.”

“And that’s why I’m the world famous, crazy rich runway model and you’re the internet famous, pathetically broke college student,” Jinsoul blows an air kiss at her sister, her heart jumping with joy in her chest as she sees a teary-eyed Chaewon dragging her feet down the hallway.

“You would think a world famous, crazy rich runway model would have a bigger place but here we are,” Chaewon huffs as she enters Jinsoul’s room while dragging her suitcase and second duffle behind her. “You have the money to buy an actual house and instead you’re slumming it up in this one bedroom, one bathroom crawl space of an apartment.”

Jinsoul spins around on her heels after throwing the other duffle onto her bed, the blue comforter sinking sadly below the momentous weight of the bag. “ _Hey,_ I _like_ my apartment. You’re more than welcome to walk your nonexistent ass right out of this crawl space and into the alleyway behind the building.”

Following Jinsoul’s lead and throwing her remaining two bags onto the bed next to the first, Chaewon turns to face her sister with a wide grin painting her cheeks. “Nope, this’ll do just fine.”

Letting out a high-pitched squeal of excitement and features lighting up with a recognizable warmth, she sprints to where Jinsoul’s standing and throws her small body into her sister’s open arms.

Spinning her around as her chest breaks open with a fond laugh, Jinsoul shuts her eyes in content as she tightens her grip around her the other blonde’s waist.

“I missed you, dummy.”

A chuckle sounds from the space between her neck and shoulder, “I missed you too, ugly. Now put me down before your noodle arms give out.”

Setting her down carefully, Jinsoul shoots Chaewon a goofy grin as she plants a sloppy kiss onto her forehead, ignoring the younger’s protests and sounds of disgust.

(She knows Chaewon secretly loves her wet kisses and warm hugs. She may act like she hates affection but Jinsoul knows her little sister thrives off it.)

Helping her unpack her entire closet's worth of clothes from all of her luggages, Jinsoul lets her body fall backwards onto her bed besides an already comfortable Chaewon.

“I’m hungry,” Chaewon whines out, her hands dramatically clutching at her stomach as she looks at Jinsoul with wide eyes. “All I’ve had today are five of those little pretzel bags they give you on the plane.”

“You flew first class and you still only got the pretzels,” Jinsoul scrunches her nose in disgust. Five bags of stale pretzels isn’t exactly a meal.

Dragging her sister off the comforter with one tug, Jinsoul starts walking towards the door with a lazy smile on her cheeks. “I know some place we could get a bite.”

Climbing into her car (after spending ten or so minutes forcing Chaewon to sit in the front with her), Jinsoul drives them to her favorite place in the city.

Chaewon’s face lights up with recognition when she sees the vibrant yellow lettering painted on the large, open window of the storefront spelling out ‘Aeong Café’.

Hyunjin (or, backtracking to something more familiar, the second finger) had been Jinsoul’s close friend in high school before the other girl moved to the states for college. Jinsoul had never really lost contact with Hyunjin when she left, only finding it harder to talk to her everyday when they were on opposite ends of the globe.

(They had only fully reconnected after Jinsoul’s move to New York when Jinsoul, desperate for a familiar face and, at the very least, a fleeting sense of normalcy in such a bright and busy new place, had tracked Hyunjin’s business down after countless Google search attempts.

Not only did Hyunjin give her the familiarity she so terribly needed at the time, but she also made the best baked goods Jinsoul had ever tasted.)

Not waiting for Jinsoul to even finish locking the car door, Chaewon sprints inside the buildings, her golden hair trailing behind her in waves.

Jinsoul’s eyes crinkle into crescents as she watches the following events: her sister bursting through the doors with her mouth wide open (most likely screeching Hyunjin’s name in her signature banshee-like tone), Hyunjin racing out from the storage space in the back with a broom raised in defense and eyes wide in alarm, Hyunjin’s alarm vanishing and being replaced with a sparkling grin as soon as she sees the younger Jung sister standing in front of her, Hyunjin leaping over the counter and scooping Chaewon into her lean and strong arms while simultaneously spinning her around in tight circles.

(Jinsoul always had a theory that Hyunjin liked her little sister more than her. Sometimes, very rarely but _sometimes,_ she would get a bit annoyed when Hyunjin would come to her house for movie night only to spend her time pulling pranks on Jinsoul with Chaewon.

Only now, she realized the sight of two of her favorite people being around each other didn’t bother her but only made her chest bloom with an unexplainable warmth.)

Following Chaewon’s lead and walking into the shop a few moments later, Jinsoul’s grin refuses to fall away when she hears the intermingled laughter of both her sister and friend as she opens the door.

Hyunjin is slumped over as pieces of laughs and wheezes break free from her chest, “You’re joking, you have to be joking.”

“I’m not!” Chaewon cackles back, her eyes shining with tears as she slaps Hyunjin’s back with an open palm. “Jinsoul was an Uber driver for a whole _month_ when she first got here—”

Jinsoul’s grin falls away easily.

Rushing over, Jinsoul slaps a hand over Chaewon’s mouth and drags her a few feet away from a doubled over Hyunjin, still hysterical with laughter.

“You _promised_ you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Jinsoul hisses through her teeth.

“Oh, yeah. Well, guess I lied then,” Chaewon chirps, sauntering away from Jinsoul’s now loosened grip and parking herself in front of the menu hanging from the store’s ceiling. “Now, let’s eat! I’m starving.”

Hyunjin fixes the two of them bags full of freshly baked pastries and a cup of their favorite drinks before going back to the counter to take the orders of incoming customers.

(It was lunch time and lunch time at the café was always busier than both Hyunjin and Jinsoul had ever expected it to be. Somehow, Hyunjin’s small business became the talk of the city.

Maybe it had something to do with Jinsoul mentioning it as her “favorite place in New York” in a Vogue interview, maybe not. Regardless, Hyunjin was busy at lunch.)

Sitting down at her designated table nestled comfortably in a secluded corner of the building, Jinsoul watches with exasperation as Chaewon shovels the pumpkin spice muffin that Hyunjin had given her into her mouth at record speed.

“God, she’s always been great at baking,” Chaewon groans as she starts on her next pastry. “I always knew she’d do something amazing with it.”

Jinsoul smiles fondly at the memories of the three of them in her kitchen at 2 in the morning, cheeks and clothes dusted with a light coating of flour, as Hyunjin forced them to eat her fourth batch of homemade cookies.

( _It needs to be perfect guys_ , Hyunjin would always whine out when the sisters would groan while holding their stomachs as she shoved another cookie in their faces. _I want to do this for the rest of my life, so it needs to be perfect!_

(Jinsoul and Chaewon would always suck it up and eat every cookie they were offered.))

“So,” Jinsoul starts just as Chaewon is biting eagerly into the second half of her croissant. “How are things? I know we haven’t talked in a bit, so tell me everything.”

Chaewon swallows her food before shrugging in response. “Things are good. You haven’t really missed much. It’s just been trying to survive college and growing my online platform, mostly.”

“Well, how’s college going? Have you chosen a major yet?”

Chaewon stops chewing before resuming at a slower pace. “Yeah, I chose my major last year.”

“Really?” Jinsoul’s lips tug downwards. She didn’t think she was _that_ out of the loop. “So, um, what’d you end up choosing, then?”

“Film production, actually.”

Jinsoul’s jaw drops open, “ _Shit_ , no way. How’d mom take it?”

“Not too well. She’s always wanted me to go into business or accounting, but you know that stuff has always bored me out of my mind. If I’m going to be forced through another few years of hell instead of dropping out and putting all my time into all the other stuff I’ve got going on, I at least want to be studying something I don’t _hate,_ ” Chaewon scoffs out a pause, breaking eye contact to glance down insecurely.

Jinsoul’s gaze softens at the sight of her sister speaking about something with such little control.

If Chaewon was anything, she was passionate. And if that passion could be turned into a career, Jinsoul prays the world makes way for her before she burns things down to clear a path for herself.

“Hey,” Jinsoul starts softly, reaching over and grabbing her sister’s hand. “You don’t need to defend yourself to me. You know I’ll support whatever decisions you make.”

Chaewon sighs, a small smile sliding onto her lips. “I know, sorry. I’ve had to say that speech pretty much everyday at home for a year now so it’s sort of a reflex now.”

“Well, just look at me,” Jinsoul grins proudly. “I got a degree in something socially acceptable and I’m not doing anything with it. I’m a _model_ for crying out loud, Chae. That’s, like, probably the furthest you could get from a marine biologist.”

Chaewon just laughs quietly in response, picking at the food in front of her with a distracted gaze.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you,” Jinsoul says with conviction. “College may seem like it sucks right now, but it’s not all bad.”

And, as if the universe had been listening to her speak and had known where her mind would inevitably travel to at the mention of college, Jinsoul’s phone begins to ring brightly from its place face-up on the table.

Jinsoul’s hands are quick as they snatch the phone from the table in one choppy motion, silencing the chiming shakily.

But, Chaewon’s eyes are quicker.

“…Jinsoul,” Chaewon begins calmly. “Why the hell is someone named Jungeun calling you.”

Laughing nervously, Jinsoul actively avoids her sister’s gaze.

(Chaewon could be _scarily_ intimidating when she wanted.

And, Jinsoul supposes Chaewon finding out her sister is back in contact with the girl who broke her heart bad enough to make her uproot her life and move to a whole other country is a moment that warranted staring at said sister with hell’s fire burning in her eyes.)

“Um, well—you know, haha, it’s a funny story,” Jinsoul stumbles, shrinking under Chaewon’s ever growing glare. “She’s here. In New York. Lives here now, actually.”

“Okay. That doesn’t answer my question of why she’s _calling_ you,” Chaewon hisses, her perfectly trimmed and manicured nails scratching against the table threateningly.

“Another funny story, we’ve been, uh…talking,” Jinsoul gulps. Somehow, she knows this isn’t going to end well for her.

When she feels a piece of food hit her in between her eyebrows, she knows she was right.

“Chae, come on,” Jinsoul starts.

“Don’t _Chae_ me,” the shorter blonde growls, throwing another piece of her half eaten muffin at Jinsoul, who now deflects the projectile food away from her face with a swipe of her arm.

“Can you just—” Another piece of bread hits her on the cheek. “Could you listen—” Another piece. “ _Jesus,_ you do realize Hyunjin’s going to have to clean all this up.”

“A small price to pay for your sanity and mental health,” Chaewon hisses, throwing her last piece of food at Jinsoul’s head, watching as it bounces off her sister’s scowling face and onto the floor.

Sighing and wiping a tired hand over her frustrated features, Jinsoul gathers herself before she makes even more of a scene by launching herself over the table to grab a handful of Chaewon’s hair and slam her face on the table.

“It’s not a big deal, seriously,” Jinsoul mutters. With how unconvincing that sounded, she wasn’t sure she would even believe herself. “We’re just friends.”

Chaewon scoffs, “Yeah, well you were _just friends_ last time and look how that turned out.”

Jinsoul doesn’t want to cry.

It’s not like she has anything against crying, it’s just she’s not a crier. Even when she slammed her head into the corner of a table while running recklessly through a donut shop when she was younger (an incident that had earned her the small dent of a scar thrown carelessly between her eyebrows), she didn’t cry.

She’s not a crier but, for some reason, right now all she wants to do is cry.

“I know,” Jinsoul rasps out, her voice breaking imperceptibly on the last word. Bringing her left hand up, the older blonde rubs at her face in frustration, trying to get rid herself of the familiar feelings that were creeping out from the pit of her heart.

Chaewon looks at her sister with something more sympathetic, the anger still burning brightly in her eyes but the flames subdued as she looks at Jinsoul slumped into her seat in dejection.

Sighing and making a noise at the back of her throat, Chaewon concedes. “Hey, that was mean of me to say. I’m sorry.”

Jinsoul shakes her head, “No, you’re right. That _is_ how it went last time.”

“Okay but, I mean, it’s been…what, four years since that happened? It was wrong of me to make that comparison, alright. This isn’t the same as last time,” Chaewon murmurs softly, her voice lowered as she watches Jinsoul with a mellowed gaze.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe,” Jinsoul grumbles, her eyes still lowered.

“I’m just…Look, I love you Soul, and I just don’t want you getting hurt again. If you think that’s not going to happen this time, then I’ll sit back and shut up.”

It’s moments like these that remind Jinsoul why Chaewon is the fourth finger. As supportive as Jinsoul is of Chaewon, her sister never hesitates to offer it back ten-fold.

“I love you too, idiot,” Jinsoul lets out a watery laugh, wiping her burning eyes and sucking in a deep breath of air. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all mopey on you.”

“It’s alright. Jungeun tends to have that effect on you,” Chaewon snorts. “Seriously though, you’ve got to tell me how this happened.”

So, Jinsoul dives into the less than thrilling story of their happenstance reunion— from seeing Jungeun walk in through the door of Hyunjin’s café to their impromptu late night drive a few weeks later.

“It’s just…weird,” Jinsoul finishes, her voice dropping an octave in blah blah. “I know it’s different than last time or whatever, but it doesn’t really feel too different. Everything _feels_ the same.”

Chaewon speaks when Jinsoul trails off, taking pity on her as she sees the other girl’s eyes wander aimlessly around the room as she searches for the right words. “You’re afraid that since it feels the same, it’s going to end the same.”

Maybe it’s the sister wavelength, the sibling connection, or whatever it’s called that helped Chaewon finish her sentence for her. She doesn’t really know but, whatever it is, she’s grateful for it.

Sighing and letting her head fall lower, “Yeah. It’s confusing but the last thing I want is for her to leave again.”

(The ‘leave _me_ again’ is unspoken but there.

Jinsoul figures she doesn’t need to state the obvious.)

As it turns out, she’s been putting a lot of thought into this lately. And what she’s come to realize (or at least a heavily watered down version of the thought process) is she doesn’t mind being _just friends_ with Jungeun as long as she gets to keep her in her life.

In essence, what she’s realized is simple: having Jungeun in any capacity is better than not having her at all.

“Do you want my advice?”

Jinsoul nods, “Always.”

“See where it goes. That’s my advice,” She explains as an enraptured Jinsoul listens. “You don’t know anything about this yet, not really. All this is is a new relationship.”

Chaewon shrugs, “Treat it like one. If you decide this isn't something you want, then leave. Otherwise, keep being happy.”

Jinsoul nods and Chaewon continues to speak, “Cause you are happy, Jinsoul. Anyone with eyes can see that,” When the younger blonde breaks into a small smile, Jinsoul’s lips mirror her sister’s. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you look this relaxed and content. And I guess if she’s the one helping you look like that, I can’t really argue.”

Jinsoul can feel her eyes burning again, but this time for a different reason.

“I don’t know, Chae. All I know is I feel good when I’m with her.”

“Then keep being with her,” Chaewon grins, reaching over to playfully punch her sister’s arm. “But don’t think this means she gets an automatic green light from me. I’ve got my eye on her. One wrong move and—”

Chaewon makes a quick gesture with her thumb across her throat, her grin turning into something slightly more sinister and, oddly, something slightly more _Chaewon._

Jinsoul lets out a snort, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Seriously, though,” Chaewon whispers, Jinsoul having to lean forward to catch what she’s saying. “She better not break your heart again. The last time she did that you literally moved _countries_.”

Jinsoul can’t help but laugh at that. The girl who hated cities finding herself making a home in one. 

But, when she really thinks about it and takes a moment to look around her, where she’s at, and how she got there, Jinsoul feels herself liking New York a little more than she had five minutes ago.

Because when she sees Hyunjin packaging a customer’s order with an easy, tranquil smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Jinsoul can suddenly see a small piece of the urban charm people seem to love to talk about.

As she thinks about how she somehow managed to find one of the most important people in her life at an after party when Sooyoung had spilt red wine on her now stained designer shoes, Jinsoul can begin to believe the allure people claim to find in the city’s culture and winding mazes of skyscraper streets.

And, when she realizes this city is what gave her the pretty sight of Jungeun’s smile, the nostalgic sound of her laugh, and the chance to hold her hand again, Jinsoul can all at once see the beauty of the infamous hazy skyline view, illuminated by the golden sunsets above and casting dancing shadows on the streets below.

Jinsoul smiles, “It hasn’t been all bad.”

  
  


—

  
  


It’s been a few months since Jungeun walked into the café and Jinsoul still doesn’t really know how they skipped the whole awkward phase that should’ve inevitably come with their circumstantial reformed relationship.

She doesn’t understand how they completely bypassed the uncomfortable small talk and dove head-first into their usual teasing and ugly-laughter filled conversations.

She can’t wrap her head around how they side-stepped the hurdles of unsure touches and fleeting glances and somehow already crossed the finish line of open arms and warm smiles.

But, even though she doesn’t understand it, she’s not complaining.

Jungeun had stopped by her apartment after work, the blinking digital numbers etched into her clock’s screen striking the eleven o’clock mark just as a gentle knock broke the static of her home. When Jinsoul opened the door, she already had a feeling she knew who was standing on the other side. And when she was met with tired brown eyes, slouched shoulders, and a faint smile, she knew she was right.

Jinsoul opened the door a little wider at the sight of her, her breath leaving her chest in one exhale when Jungeun’s smile widened as more of Jinsoul was revealed.

(She looked tired, exhausted, and beaten down by the day but Jinsoul’s breath still caught in her chest and her heart still beat a little louder at the sight of her.)

Jinsoul let her in, of course. She’s never turned Jungeun away before and she wasn’t about to start now.

(Whether Jungeun had turned up during one of her study-sessions in the midst of finals week or on her doorstep at two o’clock in the morning with her clothes reeking of alcohol and her kiss-swollen lips smeared with red, Jinsoul never turned her away.)

No words were exchanged between them when Jungeun entered, and Jinsoul proved to be too afraid to ask why she’s here, too afraid to slip up and risk Jungeun blowing up or ( _even_ _worse_ ) leaving. 

Even hours later, once Jungeun has made herself comfortable on Jinsoul’s worn-in couch and her stomach filled with whatever microwavable leftovers Jinsoul had left in her fridge, Jinsoul’s mouth still hangs open with words that she knows will never come out. So, instead, she lets the familiar and distractingly comfortable noise of whatever Netflix documentary she had been watching before Jungeun came sit lazily in the background, too preoccupied with the worry that plagues her mind as she stares at Jungeun’s tightly wound expression and body.

She breaks the silence a few moments later, unable to watch as Jungeun tightens and untightens her fist in a way that bleeds stress and turmoil.

“I’m surprised you remember where I live,” Jinsoul starts. “You’ve been here like once, right?”

Jungeun’s voice is a quiet whisper as she keeps her gaze glued to the screen in front of her. “Yeah, when I dropped off the jacket you left at mine last week.”

“Well, I’m impressed. You have a good memory.”

Jungeun doesn’t break her one-way staring contest with the screen and it worries Jinsoul more than it annoys her. She just wants Jungeun to look at her because she knows if she does, she’ll be able to see how much she cares.

“Hey,” Jinsoul tries softly. “Look at me.”

Jungeun inhales a shaky breath at Jinsoul’s words, shaking her head in two swings as she tucks her fidgeting hands underneath her folded legs.

“I can’t,” Jungeun breathes out, her words sounding weighted and labored.

“Why not?” Jinsoul can’t help but move closer to the girl sitting on the opposite end of her couch, wanting nothing more to stop her from caving in.

“Because…” Jungeun stops, closing her eyes as if to stop her head from turning and meeting Jinsoul’s worried gaze. “Because if I look at you I’ll probably start crying.”

“Okay,” Jinsoul reaches out to the girl who’s only a couple inches away from her now. “If you need to cry, then cry.”

Jungeun looks at her after that, her lips wavering ever so slightly as her eyes well up with a day’s worth of emotion. Jinsoul opens her arms as the first tear makes its way down Jungeun’s pale cheek, and Jungeun eagerly throws her body into Jinsoul’s warmth at the invitation. She cries quietly for what seems like hours, her shoulders shaking softly and her almost inaudible noises completely drowned out as she muffles them into the fabric of Jinsoul’s sweatshirt.

It’s almost like Jungeun has taught herself how to cry silently, how to cry without being heard. The thought tears at Jinsoul’s heart, leaving fresh wounds that she knows only Jungeun could inflict.

Jinsoul speaks once Jungeun seems to have calmed down, wrapping her arms around the girl’s shaking body and pressing her even closer to her front— close enough to where she can feel Jungeun’s wet eyelashes flutter prettily against her neck and her hot breath fan out against her collarbones.

“Tough day?” Jinsoul says with a smile, one that aims to reassure.

Jungeun snorts at that, her fingers digging deeper into Jinsoul’s side as she lets herself sink into the other girl’s languid form.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jungeun’s voice is muffled by Jinsoul’s skin, goosebumps popping up unwelcomed as Jungeun’s words vibrate against her. “I just…”

Jinsoul waits, never pushing and always patient.

(That’s always been their dynamic, Jinsoul sitting in silence while she waits for Jungeun to explain herself. The situations and circumstances may have changed and shifted throughout the years but the way they work never has. It always starts and ends with Jinsoul waiting— never pushing and always patient.)

“I just feel so tired,” Jungeun explains, tears clinging desperately to her lashes as her voice breaks again. “All the time.”

Jinsoul opens her mouth to respond but Jungeun interrupts her.

“Nothing even happened today, nothing bad at least. It was a normal day but I still feel so fucking _exhuasted._ ”

Jungeun interrupts Jinsoul again before she can try to talk.

“And I’m alone too. I’m _lonely_ and _tired_ and I just feel like I can’t do anything right because I’m still a mess. Even now.”

(Jinsoul tries not to think about what the _even now_ means. She never thought Jungeun was a mess back then. Confused, yes. Scared, yes. A mess, never.)

“Jungeun, listen to me,” Jinsoul speaks slowly, lifting her body so she can meet Jungeun’s eyes as she talks. “You don’t have to have a bad day to feel like shit. Trust me, I would know.”

Jungeun stares at her with her lips parted slightly, the only movements coming from her chest rising and falling as she breathes.

“You can be sad and angry or whatever you want to be whenever you want. There’s no rule saying you have to be happy all the time,” Jinsoul tangles her fingers in Jungeun’s hair, taking the brown locks out of the tightly bound bun sitting atop her head and letting them tumble onto her shoulders in soft waves. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’ve been doing amazing regardless. You’re running a company that helps people, Jungeun. You’re important and what you’re doing is important so don’t give up on yourself just because you think you’re not enough.”

They both breathe in tandem, Jinsoul’s fingers combing the tangles from Jungeun’s hair and stripping away the long-harbored tension from her muscles.

“Because you are enough,” Jinsoul finishes. “I hope you’ll see that someday.”

The scene is all too familiar to Jinsoul, her fingers running through Jungeun’s hair while she whispers words of love and admiration into her ear, hoping someday they’ll latch on and take root in Jungeun’s mind.

(They never did. Jungeun’s insecurities always seemed to overshadow Jinsoul’s words.)

“Why?” Jungeun whispers more to herself than anything, the words still reaching Jinsoul due to their close proximity, however.

“Why what?” Jinsoul mutters, her eyes growing heavy as she becomes comfortable with the weighted warmth seated across the entirety of her body.

“Why are you being so nice to me,” Jungeun shakes her head as if the thought spoken aloud is even more absurd than how it sounded in her head. “I literally barged into your house unannounced, ate all your food, and stained your sweatshirt.”

Jungeun looks down at Jinsoul’s sweatshirt, her frown deepening at the sight of the tear stains maring the worn grey fabric.

Jinsoul’s thoughts break through with an answer before she can consider stopping them.

_Because I love you,_ is what the inner voice inside Jinsoul’s head says. Luckily enough, the words get stuck halfway up her throat and all she’s left with is wide eyes and a half-open mouth as she stares at the girl lying comfortably on top of her.

(Jinsoul wants to think she doesn’t love Jungeun anymore. She wants to think she’s not pathetic enough to still be head-over-heels for the girl who left her behind in college. She just cares about her, that’s all. There’s a difference between that and love.)

Jungeun continues, albeit hesitantly, at the lack of a response, “Even after everything I did—”

“—We both did things,” Jinsoul mutters in interruption, her heart stalling in her chest at the thought of _finally_ addressing what happened between them four years ago. Her fingers in Jungeun’s hair stall alongside her heart, her body shuddering slightly as it always does when the memories of their ruinous fight resurface.

( _You don’t have the capacity for love, Jungeun. You’re not capable of it._

_That’s not true, Soul. You know that’s not true._

_Yeah, well, I think it is. Get out.)_

Jinsoul wants to talk about it, she thinks she deserves that much at least. She’s been wanting to talk about it since the moment she saw Jungeun step into the café but she’s stopped herself from letting any words she’d regret slip from the confines of her mind.

She’s caught herself on one too many occasions— in her car, in Jungeun’s apartment, in the streets of New York where they’d more often than not find themselves traipsing through in the late afternoons after work. But, somehow each time she’s managed to refrain from bringing up the old memories that seemed to hold fresh pain, always too afraid of possibly erasing the smiles that were dancing freely on Jungeun’s cheeks or snub the flames of laughter and joy that would flare beautifully from Jungeun’s chest.

Tonight, though, Jinsoul thinks that maybe she can say what she’s been wanting to say because Jungeun’s not laughing or smiling, she’s just staring. Maybe this is a good time, maybe this is the time and place they’re _finally_ meant to talk about it.

But, just as Jinsoul starts to open her mouth to let free the words she’s kept under careful lock and key for the past month, Jungeun’s lips crack into a hesitant smile.

Jinsoul’s mouth shuts just as quickly as it opens because she won’t talk about it when Jungeun’s smiling. She won’t say anything at the expense of Jungeun’s smile, not when she’s gone four years without seeing it and not when she knows Jungeun struggles to find the time to smile nowadays.

_Another time,_ Jinsoul thinks. _We’ll talk about it another time._

“I think I want to sleep,” Jungeun sighs with a quirk of her lips. “Maybe for a couple decades at the very least.”

Jinsoul lets her eyes wander from the pretty face nuzzled into her shoulder and onto her digital clock, the glaringly red numbers blinking 1:26 am back at her.

“Yeah, it’s pretty late,” Jinsoul agrees, shifting her body into an upright sitting position. “Too late for you to drive home.”

Jungeun nods, “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Jinsoul chuckles fondly as the other girl readjusts herself to coordinate with Jinsoul’s new position.

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Jinsoul murmurs warmly, gesturing to the uncomfortable business attire Jungeun is wearing. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No,” Jungeun sits up. “No, I’m taking the couch. There’s no way I’m kicking you out of your bed. You’ve put up with me enough for tonight.”

Jinsoul snorts disbelievingly, “You know I’ll just move you to the bed when you fall asleep so might as well save me the trouble. And it’s my apartment so you kinda have no say, sorry.”

Jungeun pouts, her bottom lip jutting out in a childish manner that is in no way appropriate for a girl in her 20’s.

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the left. Go wash up and I’ll bring you more comfortable clothes.”

Jinsoul chuckles as Jungeun lifts herself off her body, letting out a protestful groan as she manages to stand upright. As Jungeun stumbles sleepily into the bathroom, Jinsoul watches her retreating figure attentively and lets out a heavy breath of relief when she hears the door click shut. Pushing herself up a few seconds later, Jinsoul makes her way into her own room, looking through her drawers for clothes and laying out a few options on the bedspread for Jungeun. Wandering back into the living room, Jinsoul runs a hand through her (slightly dead and fried) blonde locks, grimacing at the texture as she pours two glasses of cold water.

When Jungeun comes back out some time later, her hair is dark from the shower she had just taken and her cheeks are flushed pink from the steam. She’s wearing one of the sweatshirts Jinsoul had laid out on her bed, a worn-out black hoodie she’s had since college that has a small blue fish stitched into it, and comfortable grey sweatpants that hang loosely on her hips. Jinsoul was taller than Jungeun, not by much, but just enough to make her clothes a bit big on the shorter girl.

Letting her eyes roam hesitantly over the girl before her, she couldn’t help but let a small smile ghost onto her lips. Here she was, standing in her apartment buried deep within the bustle of New York City, and Jungeun, _her_ Jungeun, was standing not even a foot away from her.

Jungeun, the girl whose eyes could command a room with just one glance, standing in Jinsoul's apartment dressed in her clothes that make her look even smaller than she actually is. Jungeun, the hotshot CEO of some crazy, fancy, and important company, who’s shuffling towards her with tired eyes and a tired body.

Jinsoul thinks _this_ Jungeun is her favorite— the soft Jungeun that she would get to come home to at the end of a long day, the warm Jungeun that would open her arms and let her _fall, fall, fall._

Shaking her head and effectively ridding her mind of thoughts that painted such a painfully desirable future with such a painfully unavailable girl, Jinsoul offers her another smile as she extends her hand for Jungeun to latch onto.

Jungeun returns the smile with one of her own, the corners of her lips curling upwards as she takes the hand Jinsoul offers to her. Jinsoul feels the softness of every curve and the warmth radiating from the other girl’s skin as she grips Jungeun’s hand even tighter and carefully leads her back to her bedroom.

Jinsoul feels weird having Jungeun standing in the middle of her room, the younger girl’s eyes flitting around the room like she doesn’t know where she should look first— the neatly made bed with a navy blue comforter laid out evenly across its surface, the lamps and lights that cast a soft, warm glow across the room, the small picture frame of Jinsoul and Sooyoung smiling brightly into the camera after their first show as officially signed YSL models. 

“Your room is nice,” Jungeun says after a few seconds of silence, Jinsoul’s hand falling to her side as she moves to throw the pillows off the surface of her bed and untuck the sheets. “It’s very...homey.”

Jinsoul smiles to herself as she moves hurriedly around her room, tossing wrinkled clothes and mismatching socks into her hamper. “Thanks. Sooyoung helped me put it together when I moved here.”

Jungeun’s silent after that, her mouth closing into a thin line as her eyes follow Jinsoul’s hasty movements around her bedroom. Huffing out a breath of relief, Jinsoul turns to face the girl behind her with a half-smile quirked onto her lips.

Gesturing towards the bed, Jinsoul moves closer to the door as she makes her exit. “That’s as clean as it’s gonna get. Let me know if you need anything else.”

And just as she’s about to cross the barrier separating her room and the hallway, Jinsoul hears a small strangled sound coming from behind her, the noise making her stop in her steps.

“Soul,” Jungeun says softly, her eyes shimmering and washing over the blonde before her with an unreadable expression. “Thank you. I know I say it a lot but I mean it every time.”

Jinsoul’s lips creep into a smile at the familiar nickname as she turns to face the other girl, her eyes turning even softer as they meet Jungeun’s and her head tilting slightly to the right. Her mouth feels dry as she stares at the girl in front of her, completely enraptured.

“I know,” Jinsoul says warmly, too tired to let the conversation wander into something heavier and too unsure of herself to spend another second alone in her bedroom with Jungeun. “Get some rest. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

Jinsoul thinks she hears Jungeun mutter something else, something along the lines of “okay” and “wait” and her name being called with soft desperation, but she really can’t deal with any more of the emotionally-charged exchanges they’ve found themselves wrapped up in lately, so, instead of turning around and giving into the voice she knows will lure her in until she’s too close to escape, she quietly shuts the door behind her and starts her walk towards the living room.

It seems oddly familiar and oddly ironic.

Jinsoul lets a pained smile crack onto her lips. It’s funny. This time, she’s the one walking out and away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hey everyone, it's been a while! remember when i said i'd be back w something soon on my last one...lol. anyway, i've had this in my drafts for a while now and it was supposed to be a one-shot but kind of just ended up turning into whatever this is. the downfalls of being an overwriter, raise ur hand if u agree.
> 
> all that aside, i hope u guys enjoyed the first part of this lipsoul mess. tell me how u feel abt it in the comments so i can talk to u!
> 
> thanks for reading, see u guys on the next update (or for loona's september cb, whichever happens first...i'd place ur bets on loona).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yvesoul best besties ever rt if u agree

  
  


Jinsoul has never been more overworked in her life.

Sure, there have been a few times in college where she nearly fell over from pure fatigue after a particularly rough Organic Chemistry exam or the grueling finale of midterm season but, in all her years of living, Jinsoul doesn’t think she’s ever been this tired.

It’s the kind of exhaustion that you feel in your bones. The kind of fatigue that leads you to believe your blood is pumping through your veins solely out of pure biological obligation even though your brain is telling it to _slow down for one second and take a break._

There’s a reason for her exhaustion, though.

(There always is. It’s not like Jinsoul enjoys feeling like she’s walking blindly through a black-and-white world while her days blend together into a monotoned motion picture of _routine, routine, routine_.)

New York Fashion Week starts next week which means her new _routine_ has transformed into a cocktail of fittings, rehearsals, diets, and critique— four things she has come to despise with every functioning cell in her body.

Having Sooyoung suffering with her doesn’t make matters worse, though it certainly doesn’t make it better either. Seeing her best friend wince as she’s impaled with an alteration pin for the hundredth time that day isn’t something that brings a smile to her face, but, even so, misery does love company.

(In all honesty, Jinsoul doesn’t think she could’ve survived the past year without Sooyoung, the girl’s beautiful face and kind heart making a commendable effort to pick up the broken pieces and glue her back together as neatly as she could. Even if it was a patch job and there’s still some pieces cracked or missing, it's the thought that counts, right?)

After a grueling two and a half hours of being stuck with exposed needles and shoved into an innumerable amount of outfits, Jinsoul slides her worn body into the cold leather covering the couch in the break room, Sooyoung letting out a groan from behind her as she enters the room a few seconds later.

“I can’t believe that hag yelled at me for bleeding,” The other girl grumbles as she drags her feet further into the room. “ _She’s_ the one who stabbed _me_ with her stupid, shaky hands and I’m the one being yelled at. Unbelievable.”

Jinsoul hums in acknowledgement at her friend’s qualms, her eyes barely open as her body sinks further into the couch.

“When I pass out from blood loss, I bet she’ll start screaming at me for staining a shirt from the Spring Collection. Which, by the way, looks like _shit._ I bet Prada wouldn’t have dressed me in clothes that look like they were sewn by monkeys,” Sooyoung fumes in a low voice as she presses a hot towel to the back of her neck and shoves a strawberry carved in the shape of a high-heel into her mouth.

(Of course Yves Saint Laurent’s break room would have hot towels and fruits carved to resemble various fashion iconographies. They’re a multi-million dollar designer fashion brand for God’s sake, not H&M.)

“I’m so sorry you had to choose between Prada, Versace, and YSL, Soo. Really, my heart is breaking for you,” Jinsoul croons from her place in the cushions, blinking up at the scowling girl above her as Sooyoung hands her an apple stylistically carved into the letters YSL.

_Subtle,_ Jinsoul thinks before taking a bite into the skinless fruit, a line of juice dripping down her chin as she lets her posture fall into a relaxed slump.

“Do you think I could sue for millions if I got tetanus from being stuck with those things,” Sooyoung says, her tone one of genuine inquiry as she unceremoniously flops her body into the empty space beside Jinsoul.

Jinsoul snorts, not sparing the girl a glance as she takes out her phone and looks at the black screen, her reflection marred with a frown staring mockingly back at her.

“You’re acting like you were impaled with rusty nails. You were _poked_ with half inch pins, you moron,” Jinsoul grumbles, her head falling back as she changes her stare from the screen to the ceiling.

Expression twisting into something conniving, Sooyoung’s lips warp into a smirk as she regards the moping girl beside her.

“Jesus, did your phone call you ugly or something? Not like it would be lying if it did,” Sooyoung speaks with a lazy drawl, nonchalantly twirling strands of her long black hair around her fingers.

(If Jinsoul’s so-called “brand” was her head of bleach-blonde platinum hair, then Sooyoung’s would be her cascading jet-black hair that fell in perfect, straight waves down her back. And even if she didn’t really care much for the media’s frankly pathetic attempt to lump the two of them together, their nickname of Day&Night did have a nice ring to it.)

“Hm?” Jinsoul hums, her thoughts scattered as she thinks back to the notification-less screen that had been pitifully staring back at her a few moments ago.

“Why are you staring at your phone like it’s about to eat you. If you wanted someone to do that you could’ve just asked me,” Sooyoung wiggles her eyebrows, her smirk soon being wiped off her lips as she lets out a shocked bark, a (surprisingly rock solid) pillow being flung aggressively in the direction of her face.  
  


“What the _fuck,_ Soul! Don’t damage the goods,” Sooyoung screeches, her hands locked in a vice grip on the brick of a pillow that was inches away from her panicked face. “My face is my _career—_ ”

“I was just trying to put a few things back in place,” Jinsoul pouts. “Your nose could use a few degrees of realignment.”

Sooyoung just stares at her, her eyes blank and narrowed as her eyebrows pinch together in annoyance. Dropping the pillow from her hands into her lap, Sooyoung huffs exasperation as she regards the smug blonde beside her.

“You’re the biggest asshole I know. I hate you.”

“I love you too, you big baby,” Jinsoul laughs, reaching out to pinch one of Sooyoung’s plump, rosy cheeks as the other girl bats at her hands with lanky arms and pursed lips.

“Whatever,” Sooyoung scowls, finally pushing Jinsoul to the other end of the couch before settling back in her original position, haphazardly blowing a loose strand of silky black hair from where it was hanging in front of her eyes. “And stop avoiding my question.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” Jinsoul denies, her fingers twitching as she fights the urge to reach out and check her phone.

Sooyoung snorts, her long arms extending as she plucks Jinsoul’s phone from her loose grasp, ignoring the strangled noises of upset coming from the blonde as she unlocks the screen.

“Give me my phone back,” Jinsoul says in what she tries to make sound intimidating but just comes out as a pitiful whine. “I’m not kidding, Soo.”

(She’s a supermodel, it’s her job to look intimidating and pretty. She doesn’t know how she hasn’t mastered the first part yet.)

Typing in 3474 into Jinsoul’s password lock (a number combination that unironically spells out the word FISH on the numeric keypad), Sooyoung quickly makes her way to Jinsoul’s messages while simultaneously fighting off the desperately flailing blonde to her left, only to be greeted with the sad, _sad_ sight that is the other girl’s iMessage inbox.

Zero new notifications. The only conversations being with her mom, the pizza delivery man, her manager, Sooyoung, and...Jungie?

“Who the _fuck_ is _Jungie_ ,” Sooyoung grimances in confusion at the name, ignoring the mortified wheeze escaping Jinsoul’s lips at the words.

Looking over at her best friend’s bright red face and gaping mouth, Sooyoung’s brain connects the long lost ex-best friend who, recently, Jinsoul couldn’t go a week without talking about and the new entry into Jinsoul’s cobweb ridden messages inbox.

“Oh, how cute,” Sooyoung coos, letting her guard down momentarily as she dramatically presses the phone screen to her chest whilst wiping a fake tear away from her eye. “Is big, blonde, baddie Jinsoul upset because her girlfriend— _ow_! My god— would you quit trying to break my face?!”

“No,” Jinsoul sighs in content, her eyes shining victoriously as she watches a second pillow fall to the floor beside Sooyoung, her hands quickly snatching her phone back from the grasp of her villainous best friend. “You'll thank me later when your new and improved face actually starts getting some magazine features.”

“Fuck you,” Sooyoung seethes, her fingers running through her locks to set them back into their picture-perfect placement as the dangerous glint returns to her eyes. “Unless you already have someone taking care of that for you. Oh, are you sad because your side piece isn’t returning your booty calls?”

“ _No_!” Jinsoul yells frantically, her voice lowering into a quiet hiss when she notices the volume of her words and the stupidly smug smirk planted on Sooyoung’s annoyingly perfect features. God she hates her sometimes. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’re just friends.”

“Then I don’t see why you’re so pouty about her not responding,” Sooyoung shrugs while looking at her manicured nails in fake disinterest. “Unless, you know, you like her or something.”

“I don’t like her,” Jinsoul grits out with a steely gaze, her fingers drumming against the glass of her phone screen. “I can’t like her.”

Sooyoung raises her head at this, her lips falling into a straight line as she regards Jinsoul with a quirked brow.

“And why not?”

“Because,” She starts, eyes lowering. The room turns colder, the temperature falling with the mood and sending an unpleasant shiver crawling down Jinsoul’s rigid spine. “I just can’t.”

Unwanted memories spring to the forefront of Jinsoul’s mind, her drumming fingers slowing to a standstill. She hates when this happens, when her brain is flooded with all the little things that made her fall in love with the other girl in the first place. It sends her into sensory overload.

(The smiles she would give Jinsoul when they were alone and safe from the world. The way her eyes would crinkle at the edges and she would cover her mouth when she would laugh too hard at something Jinsoul said. The way her eyes would gleam and twinkle with something special, something reserved for only when she looked at Jinsoul.)

“It didn't work out too well last time.”

Sooyoung scoots closer, wrapping a heavy arm around Jinsoul’s shoulders and pulling her into her side, a comforting warmth wrapping itself around Jinsoul’s body as she lets her head fall onto Sooyoung's open shoulder.

“That was last time though,” Sooyoung says quietly as if she’s scared any inflection could destroy all the hard work she had put into rebuilding the girl that was slowly crumbling at her side. “Maybe it could be different now.”

Briefly, Sooyoung’s voice translates differently in her mind, morphing into something pitched a few octaves higher and belonging to someone with bleached blonde hair rather than brown.

(Chaewon had said the same thing. Two of her people had said the same thing about Jinsoul and Jungeun.

Maybe that should tell her something about her own worries, right?)

But still, Jinsoul snorts, her mind jumping timelines to where her and Jungeun were _now,_ because, the thing is, she doesn’t really think they’re much different from how they were _then._

And that scares her.

It scares her how they seemed to have shoved their unresolved past into a box, locked it, buried it, and threw away the key. It scares her that they just fell back into the normalcy they had thrived on back when they were struggling college students drowning in student debt. Mostly, it scares her that they just clicked resume on a story that needed to be rewound and talked about, not moved past.

Maybe, if Jinsoul would allow herself a seconds worth of hope, her and Jungeun could be different now. They are different, after all, no longer the shy twenty-something year olds they were in college. But there are too many things that have stayed the same. 

(The way they talk to each other, look at each other, depend on each other. The way they ignore the things that need to be talked about and dance around the tendrils of that foreign emotion that had suffocated their relationship four years ago.

Obviously, that emotion was love but Jinsoul doesn’t like to think about what that might mean.)

If the only thing that has changed between them is their age, Jinsoul can’t see an outcome that doesn’t include them crashing and burning in the fine print.

And, with that, Jinsoul feels the small embers of hope burning in her chest fizzle out.

(Still, she wonders if maybe Chaewon and Sooyoung are right. But even then, she can’t bring herself to fuel the flames.)

“It won’t be,” Jinsoul sighs, her shoulders rising in a shrug before falling down in defeat. “Besides, it doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to me anyway.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Jinsoul glares at Sooyoung who blinks innocently down at her in response.

“You saw the messages,” Jinsoul trails off insecurely as she stares in forlornness at her phone. “She hasn’t texted me.”

“Well,” Sooyoung’s fingers tap absentmindedly on Jinsoul’s shoulder. “Have you texted her?”

“What?” The blonde’s eyebrows furrow as she runs their conversations through her mind. “Yeah, of course I’ve texted her. I always respond.”

Rolling her eyes in fond exasperation, “No, dumbass. I mean have you texted her first? Like, actually started a conversation for once.”

Silence.

“Judging by your dropped jaw and that dopey look on your face, I’m gonna assume that’s a no,” Sooyoung sighs, moving her hand from where it was rubbing comforting circles on the blonde’s arm up to her forehead where she gives a hearty flick right between the girl’s furrowed eyebrows. “You’re so stupid. Like, to the point where I genuinely wonder if there’s anything going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“Wha— I, what do you mean,” Jinsoul sputters, scrambling to grab her phone where she unlocks it and scrolls to her text messages with Jungeun.

And, if Jinsoul could make out what Sooyoung was grumbling from beside her, she would say it sounded something suspiciously like, “You are the definition of a dumb blonde.”

(And, if she changes Jungeun’s contact name from “Jungie” back to “Jungeun” while Sooyoung isn’t looking, that’s nobody’s business but her own.)

Her eyes widen in shock (and a bit of mortification because, seriously, how clueless can she possibly be) as she scrolls through her texts with Jungeun. She gags on air when she realizes for the past few weeks their conversations have been composed of Jungeun either asking how her day was and Jinsoul responding hours later with a clipped variation of “good” or Jungeun asking her if she wants to hang out and Jinsoul responding hours later with a clipped variation of “I can’t”.

It’s all so sadly one-sided that she almost starts crying on the spot.

(Jinsoul is running on less than two hours of sleep and more than two gallons of caffeine at this point so she’s gonna chalk up the impending hysterical breakdown to the delirious exhaustion that’s been consuming her for the past few weeks.)

“Oh my god,” Jinsoul breathes out, her voice breaking into an unattractive crack that makes Sooyoung wince in both sympathy and disgust. “I’m so stupid.”

“Yeah, I know. We've definitely had this conversation before, but they should’ve casted you in Clueless. You would’ve given Alicia Silverstone a serious run for her money,” Sooyoung nods to herself seriously as she stands up, letting Jinsoul’s defeated body fall into the couch in a heap of tangled limbs and ragged breaths. “She is an anti-vaxxer, though. Can’t get much more brain-dead than that.”

“She hates me. She should hate me,” Jinsoul groans loudly. “I’m the worst. She probably thinks I’m the worst. Which I am.”

“Actually, you _did_ major in marine biology in college,” Sooyoung is still speaking to herself on Jinsoul’s hypothetical casting as the lead role in the 1995 rom-com phenomenon. “That may trump anti-vaxxer. I don’t know. I’d have to give it some more thought.”

“Oh my God,” Jinsoul whimpers, mortified as she skims her eyes over the pathetic exchange of texts for the tenth time. “Oh my _God._ This is so _bad_.”

“Seriously, Jinsoul. Who majors in _marine biology_?” Sooyoung scoffs. “If you’re gonna major in STEM at least get a degree in something useful.”

(Jinsoul was bright-eyed and eager to change the world in college. Now, she orders takeout packaged in plastic containers mostly every night and has an established career in the fashion industry, arguably one of the largest and most wasteful polluters in today’s modernized world. She’s not exactly proud of her 180 mentality change and lack of eco-friendly practices but, hey, you got to go with what life gives you sometimes.

She still yells bloody murder at litterers and any other environmental terrorists she sees loitering around like the criminals they are, though, so maybe that’ll earn her some points back with Mother Nature.)

“I liked fish,” Jinsoul grumbles, slightly offended by Sooyoung’s distaste for her beloved major but more preoccupied with the giant, red, blaring Jungeun-shaped problem carved into the forefront of her mind. “Hey Soo, you know those pillows I threw at your unbearably ugly face earlier?”

“Who're you calling ugly? Your hair looks like dried seaweed. I could touch it and it would just fall off.”

“Besides the point?” Jinsoul scowls, furrowing her eyebrows in upset. The hair comment was a low blow, even for Sooyoung who is arguably a distant blood relative to Satan. “Anyway, I want you to take one of them and smother me with it. Quick and easy, just use your bony elbows to hold it down on my face.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to suffocate you with one of those bricks, you’re acting like a ten year old right now and I'm not a child abuser,” Sooyoung calls over her back from where she’s making her way back to the refreshment and snacks table. “So what if you practically cut your girlfriend off for a few weeks? Stop having a pity party for yourself and do something about it.”

Jinsoul’s body jolts up from where she was previously curled into a fetal position with a renewed vigor. “You’re right!”

“Always am,” Sooyoung mutters under her breath, munching contently on a cake indented with small outlines of sunglasses.

“Should I text her?” Jinsoul asks, peering at the disinterested girl through thick eyelashes trying to invoke some sympathy and, hopefully, some help.

(Sooyoung may be the biggest pain in the ass but if she’s good at one thing, besides looking pretty and walking stylishly down runways, it’s giving advice to her useless best friend.)

Leaning her hip on the edge of the table, her hands inconspicuously reaching towards another slice of lemon cake, Sooyoung purses her lips in consideration.

“You should call her,” Sooyoung says with cool sureness.

Jinsoul gulps. They’ve never called, only keeping their interactions confined to either text or face-to-face. Faintly, Jinsoul feels a pang in her chest as she recalls the hours running into the double digits they spent on the phone back in college talking to each other about frustrating professors and irritating classmates.

She can’t believe even phone calls remind her of Jungeun.

“Um,” Jinsoul pulls out her phone slowly, running a hand through her hair as it falls dryly onto her back. “Yeah, okay. I’ll just...call her.”

Sooyoung makes some sort of noncommittal noise from her spot behind her, her mouth packed full with two more slices of cake and a glass of iced lemon-cucumber water resting in her hand.

Picking up the phone, Jinsoul stares at it stiffly for a few moments before clicking on Jungeun’s contact and pressing the blue phone icon. Pressing the device to her ear, Jinsoul holds her breath in anticipation as the phone’s rings echo emptily into her ear.

It takes three rings for Jungeun to pick up.

“ _Hello? Soul?”_

Jinsoul has missed her voice.

“Jung…” Jinsoul pauses, sparing a cursory glance towards Sooyoung who’s spending her time failing miserably at pretending to not pay attention to her. She won’t give the other girl any more ammunition to use against her in future arguments, which is why she stops herself from letting the familiar nickname roll off her tongue. “Jungeun. Yes, hi!”

Sooyoung snorts, rolling her eyes in amusement as she delicately sips the flavored water from her glass.

“ _Hey,_ ” Jungeun’s voice is warm but tinged around the edges with surprise. She obviously hadn’t been expecting the call. “ _What’s up, are you okay?_ ”

“What? No, yeah, I’m fine! All good,” Jinsoul sputters, not knowing why she can’t string together words into normal sentences like she’s usually so good at doing. Again, considering her incredibly whacked sleep schedule and the way her eyebags puff pitifully out from underneath her sunken eyes, Jinsoul figures she can afford to pin it on her bone-deep exhaustion.

(Not that Jungeun makes her heart flutter uncomfortably in her chest and the sound of her voice makes Jinsoul want to curl her body into a tight ball and _scream_. Definitely not that.)

“Um, what are you up to?” Jinsoul asks, her mind scrambling for a way to safely segway into an explanation as to why her normally perky and Jungeun-oriented personality seems to have been brutally murdered and left for dead in a ditch.

“ _I...well I have a board meeting right now but—_ ” Jungeun starts hesitantly.

And, now Jinsoul feels a burning desire to bury her physical body with her aforementioned metaphorically murdered personality.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It was dumb for me to randomly call you in the middle of the day. I know how busy you are, I’m stupid. Um, sorry, I can just call you back later or, you know what, you just call me back when you can because you probably have a lot of stuff to do and—”

“ _Jinsoul_ !” Jungeun interrupts with a breathy laugh. “ _It’s okay, I can just push it back 10 minutes._ ”

“But…” Jinsoul trails off because she does want to talk to Jungeun, really. But she also knows how much her job means to her and she thinks she’d probably feel worse if she was the reason behind a disruption in the already busy girl’s rigidly curated schedule.

“ _Seriously, it’s fine. I’m literally their boss, it’s not like they can tell me no,_ ” Jungeun snorts. Jinsoul can imagine her face on the other side of the line, Jungeun’s red-painted lips twisting into a powerful smirk and her dark eyes glinting with influence and prestige. The image stirs something inside her that she promptly makes sure to shove deep, _deep_ down.

“ _Besides,_ ” Jungeun starts again, pausing momentarily before beginning again, her voice noticeably softer and lacking the usual air of self assurance that usually surrounds her. “ _I’d rather talk to you than a room full of wrinkly, old men.”_

Jinsoul smiles at that, the blood in her veins running a little hotter at the words and her hands itching to reach out and curl themselves around Jungeun’s slender fingers. Though, when her fingers twitch uselessly at her sides and grasp strands of loose air instead, Jinsoul is snapped back to reality, her ears picking up the barest sound of nervous breaths being exhaled on the other end.

Oh. Right. Responding. Apparently, she sucks at doing that over the phone too.

“Well, I think I’d rather you talk to me over some old men too. Odds are you’d get less pissed off talking to me,” Jinsoul says teasingly with a lopsided grin crawling onto her face.

“ _Don’t put yourself on too much of a pedestal there,_ ” Jungeun grumbles, Jinsoul’s smile twitching downwards at the implications.

“Hey,” Jinsoul starts, gulping down her nerves as she looks at Sooyoung for support but is greeted with the other girl staring intently down at her phone, the glass of water dripping with condensation obscuring their eyes from meeting. “I’m sorry about not being the best to talk to for the past few weeks.”

A quiet scoff comes barreling faintly through the other end. Jinsoul probably would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been listening so closely to the sound of Jungeun’s breathing.

“ _I wouldn’t really call whatever’s been going on for the past two weeks ‘talking’ but I suppose the semantics of it aren’t all that important,_ ” Jungeun says cooly, her tone fortified with a forced layer of disinterest. “ _It doesn’t matter. I understand you’re busy._ ”

_She’s using her scary business voice on you_ , Jinsoul’s inner voice screams from within the confines of her skull. _You’re in deep shit now!_

“I know, I know, I’ve been the worst,” Jinsoul sighs into the line, pausing to see if the other girl will interrupt and continuing when she’s met with silence. “And being busy isn’t an excuse for putting you on the side. You’re not a second priority and you’re just as important to me as everything else going on right now.”

Jungeun lets out a haggard breath, her voice softer although Jinsoul could tell she still spoke with a frown.

“ _No, no, it’s okay. Out of all people, I get it. Work can get hectic sometimes,_ ” Jungeun stops before snickering. “ _You never have been the best at managing stress with everything else. In…back then, you were the same._ ”

(Although Jungeun’s voice is fond, Jinsoul’s body becomes cold. Just more proof that, really, she hasn’t changed much from the person she was in college.

Some habits are too hard to shake, she supposes, and ignoring the girl she loves when she gets overwhelmed seems to be one of her strongest vices.)

“Yeah, it’s still a work in progress I guess,” Jinsoul murmurs more to herself than anything. “But I actually do want to make some progress so…I want to see you tonight.”

As a few seconds of paused silence pass on the other end, Jinsoul feels the familiar flames of panic climbing the ladder from the pits of her stomach and scorching a path up her throat.

“Um, I mean, can I? See you tonight, that is,” Jinsoul grimances, feeling the way Sooyoung is staring down at her with an aghast expression visible on her features. “If you’re free and want to see me because I would get it if you didn’t with the way I’ve been acting—”

“ _—Jinsoul!_ ” Jungeun says loudly, her voice bursting with an almost tangible fondness and humor. “ _This is the second time I’ve had to stop you from spiraling, you must be more tired than I thought._ ” 

Jinsoul just hums in response, cheeks still burning from her near Jungeun-induced panic attack.

“ _Of course I want to see you, that shouldn’t ever be a question. I always want to see you,_ ” The other girl says affectionately, unreserved and confident. “ _I can get off early tonight, there won’t be much to do around here after the board meeting._ ”

“I have three more fittings to get through today so I won’t be able to pick you up until around 8-ish,” Jinsoul sighs in frustration.

“ _Honestly, that’s probably the earliest I’d be able to leave anyway,_ ” Jungeun snorts. Sometimes Jinsoul forgets how long the other girl’s days are.

“Do you want to go grab a bite to eat? I can take you to that burger joint you really like. We can go out and do something else after too if you want too, I just figured you’d be pretty hungry after work because I know you didn’t bring a lunch.”

(Overworked and starved. That’s a pretty good summation of Jungeun if Jinsoul was short on time and had to describe the other girl to a stranger. Extremely overworked and constantly hungry.)

Jungeun hums at Jinsoul’s suggestion. “ _Actually, how about I pick you up at 8 and we go back to my place, order some takeout, and watch those rom-coms you love so much._ ”

Before Jinsoul can respond, Jungeun speaks again.

“ _You seem tired, Soul. Take a break with me, okay? We’ll stay in tonight and you can unwind for a bit before exhausting yourself all over again tomorrow._ ”

Jinsoul’s heart breaks a little in her chest at the thought. When she wanted to, in some rare instances, Jungeun could be really, _really_ sweet.

And Jinsoul, a self-designated sucker for the sweeter things in life, can feel herself falling even deeper.

“Yeah, sure,” Jinsoul breathes out, feeling a weight being lifted off her shoulders that she hadn’t even known was there. “That sounds amazing, Jungeun. Thank you.”

“ _Anytime,_ ” Jungeun says, groaning into the speaker afterwards, whispering a muttered curse into her ear. _“I should probably go. Those wrinkly old men I was talking about earlier are getting a bit cranky._ ”

“It’s probably past their bedtime, don’t take it too personally,” Jinsoul jokes, her lips spreading into an ear splitting grin when it earns a soft laugh from Jungeun. “I’ve kept you long enough, go show ‘em who’s boss. Literally.”

“ _They seem to need constant reminders. My job is supposed to be running a company, not babysitting balding men_ ,” Jungeun sighs. “ _Okay, I’ll see you at 8?_ ”

“See you then!”

“ _Great. Bye, Soul._ ”

When the line goes dead, Jinsoul lets her phone fall out of her clenched fingertips and lets another lopsided grin stretch widely across her cheeks.

Sooyoung’s voice raises from behind her, the other girl finishing the last drops of her beverage and raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow into an equally perfect arch.

“You’re sure you don’t like her?”

“...I’m sure.”

_Lies_ , the annoying voice in the back of her mind reappears, Jinsoul aggressively tilting her head to the right as if to try and shake it out. _You can lie to her but you can’t lie to yourself, can you_?

“Hm, weird,” Sooyoung says emotionlessly, the words rolling off her tongue with practiced ease.

“What do you mean?” Jinsoul narrows her eyes. “Why would that be weird?”

“Because,” Sooyoung shrugs, as if her words hold no importance and as if the nonchalant tone she forces to adopt will in any way soften the blow of her next words. “I’m pretty sure she likes you.”

This time, Jinsoul lets her inner voice take full control because she’s too damn tired to argue with herself anyway.

And, although the words are slightly different from earlier, the sentiment is the same— _You’re in deep shit now._

  
  


—

  
  
  


Jinsoul is barely able to drag herself out of the building by the time her day comes to an end. Sooyoung’s not faring much better, having almost fallen asleep standing up while putting on a pair of stiletto high heels.

(How she walked away unbruised and with no broken bones after that, Jinsoul has no idea.

Sooyoung would like to say it’s because she ‘ _embodies elegance and grace’_ but Jinsoul would argue that she was just using up more of her finite amount of luck and that her time would come. Hopefully on the runway. And preferably in front of thousands of flashing cameras.)

When she opens the double doors leading out of the building, Jinsoul lets a deep breath heave out from her burdened lungs, sucking in a greedy amount of the crisp, night air to clear her head and rid her body of the suffocating feeling it has been subjected to for the past few weeks.

As she exhales for a second time, allowing the frigid air to curl around the back of her neck and caress her cheeks, Jinsoul looks up and is greeted by a sight that lifts a heavier weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t even known was there.

Parked a few feet away from the building was Jungeun. The girl’s head hung downwards as she stared at something on her phone with rapt attention, her fingers moving at an inhumane speed as she aggressively types (Read: _smacks_ or _pummells_ ) away at her keyboard. She’s still dressed in her work clothes, wrapping the black peacoat that hung loosely off her thin frame tightly around her body as a small breeze ruffled the white-button up she had tucked into her black business pants.

(Unsurprisingly, Jungeun was also wearing 3-inch tall black heels— designer by the looks of it. Jinsoul has always been attracted to women with a sense of style.)

Smiling inwardly to herself, Jinsoul lets her feet carry her to where Jungeun is standing, her legs seemingly moving on their own accord although Jinsoul had no complaints as to where they’re taking her.

As the sound of shoes hitting the pavement grows louder with proximity, Jungeun’s head pops up from where she had been staring at her phone.

When Jinsoul is finally able to meet Jungeun’s gaze, she’s unable to prevent the almost blindingly bright grin that overtakes her features, her lips stretching into a dopey smile as she stares at the person she has been missing relentlessly for the past few weeks.

Her smile gets even bigger (if that’s possible) when she sees Jungeun parallel her expression with a shy grin of her own.

“Hey,” Jinsoul’s voice is breathy, from the fatigue or the rush of speechlessness she has just been doused with at the sight of Jungeun, she doesn’t know. “Thanks for picking me up.”

Jungeun’s grin turns into something softer and more refined, something easier and more practiced. “Of course, it’s no problem.”

Jinsoul wonders why silence always feels so comfortable with Jungeun. Even when it’s heavy and weighed down with their unaddressed, murky past and feelings, somehow it’s always comfortable.

(She figures it’s just because anything with Jungeun feels comfortable, even the traditionally uncomfortable stuff.)

They stare at each other with matching grins for a few moments longer before Jinsoul’s eyes start to droop at the sudden onslaught of fatigue that hits her physical and mental being like a freight train. Even though traces of her long-lost energy had been graciously returned to her at the sight of a red-cheeked Jungeun standing outside her building to drive her home, it doesn’t take long for the exhaustion to regain control and wash over her in its usual, all-consuming manner.

Still, even though her eyes are fighting an uphill battle to remain open, she can’t take them off of Jungeun.

As if sensing the other’s weakening composure, Jungeun opens up her arms, the cold New York night air rushing into the spaces between her coat and shirt and causing a lone shiver to travel smoothly from the top of her spine to its base. Seeing the invitation extended before her, Jinsoul’s numb mind allows her feet to shuffle her forward, the girl falling into Jungeun’s open arms in a heap of blonde hair and slouched shoulders.

And, maybe Jungeun doesn't give her the exact effect as the five espresso shots she downs on her way to work in the morning but the end result is more or less the same—the same but better. Jungeun’s arms make her feel awake, but her warm body also makes the fog around her thoughts dissipate, and her soundless but comforting breathes lull Jinsoul into quietude, the tension that had been festering inside her muscles being pushed out with each rise and fall of Jungeun’s chest.

Jinsoul lets out a series of soft hums as she feels Jungeun’s body shift so she can push herself more soundly into the blonde’s fatigued form, her arms wrapping her peacoat around Jinsoul’s body tighter to fend off the unwanted cold that nipped at the exposed skin of the girl in her arms.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Jungeun murmurs, her voice soothing and drifting through the air like a melody that Jinsoul can’t quite get out of her head. “How was work?”  
  


Jinsoul lets out an intelligible grumble in response because, really, she doesn’t want to talk about her job right now.

(Jinsoul sort of hates her job at the moment but she loves the way she feels wrapped so tightly in Jungeun’s hold so, if she wants to enjoy the thing she loves rather than talk about the thing she hates, who could blame her?)

“That bad, huh?” Jungeun says sympathetically, her cheek moving to rest on the side of Jinsoul’s forehead as the other girl buries her face closer into the shorter girl’s exposed neck.

Jinsoul lets a breath escape through her nose, the hot air fanning out across Jungeun’s neck and causing another shiver to creep down the expanse of her spine. “Not bad. Just...tiring.”

Jungeun hums in response, her hands moving from their place against Jinsoul’s back to Jinsoul’s cheeks. The contact of skin on skin generates a certain warmth in the space between Jungeun’s palms and Jinsoul’s rosy cheeks, both girls letting a soft smile render onto their lips at the sensation. Jungeun pulls Jinsoul’s face from her neck to meet her eyes, her thumbs stroking even and slow circles delicately into Jinsoul’s skin, her breath fogging the space between them as she lets brown melt into brown.

(Jinsoul really loves Jungeun’s eyes. She really loves Jungeun.

_...Shit._ )

“Well, my couch is way more comfortable than this sidewalk. Do you want to get going?” Jungeun divulges, her tone tuned down to a mere whisper as if the relative comfort of her couch was a secret only known by a select few. “I already ordered us takeout so hopefully it’ll be at the door by the time we get there.”

“What’d you order?” Jinsoul mumbles sleepily, her brain seeming to regain an ounce of awareness at the mention of food.

“Grilled teriyaki chicken sandwich on sourdough, no tomatoes, no onions, and a side of sweet potato fries from The Habit,” Jungeun babbles, the words sounding rehearsed and pulled from instinctual memory. “I figured you could use some comfort food.”

“You remembered my order,” Jinsoul marvels, flickers of awe shining barely in her eyes and dancing on the upward quirk of her lips.

Blushing, Jungeun scoffs, her eyes tearing away from Jinsoul’s affection-laden gaze and her head angling downward as she stares intently at the blackened gum littering the pavement below them.

“It’s not that complicated of an order, Soul. Anyone would have remembered it,” Jungeun voices, her gaze averted and a noticeable pink hue coloring the paleness of her neck, cheeks, and nose.

(Jinsoul always thought the way Jungeun blushed was cute. While the other girl would argue that having her nose light up like ‘Rudolph’ whenever she got embarrassed was...well, _embarrassing_ , Jinsoul would argue that it was endearing.)

“Not anyone would’ve,” Jinsoul shrugs. “Just you.”

Jungeun lets out another scoff, this one weaker and less convicted than the first, “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just an order.”

“I know,” Jinsoul smiles, her round cheeks lifting as she pulls Jungeun closer to her by the waist. “I think it’s sweet, though. And cute.”

If the strangled laugh Jungeun lets out at her words and the way the pink flush seems to have spread to cover her entire face is any indicator, Jinsoul had said the right thing.

“Well,” Jungeun rasps, clearing her throat as she separates herself from Jinsoul. “We should probably get going. My microwave has been making weird noises lately so I wouldn’t trust it to heat up cold food.”

Whining at the loss of warmth and support, Jinsoul huffs out in reluctant agreement because despite how at peace and content she feels in Jungeun’s embrace, she _really_ does hate cold fries.

Opening the door for Jinsoul and allowing the other girl to stumble inside, Jungeun gently closes the door on the passenger side before climbing in behind the wheel.

It takes them about fifteen minutes to get back to Jungeun’s place. Although her residence is only a few miles from YSL’s rehearsal buildings, with the variable of New York traffic added into the equation, a fifteen minute drive time was a small miracle.

Helping a half-asleep Jinsoul out of her car and up the stairs leading to her loft, scooping up the takeout bag that was left outside her door under one arm and wrapping the other around Jinsoul’s slender waist. Stumbling through the doorway with the added weight of another body leaning into her side, Jungeun carefully places the lukewarm food on the flat surface of her dining table before turning around to wrap her other arm around the other side of Jinsoul’s body.

“Hey, why don’t you go hop in the shower while I run over to Jiwoo’s to heat up our food a little bit,” Jungeun suggests softly, her words barely making their way to Jinsoul as the other girl nods her head dumbly in response.

Laughing softly, Jungeun regards the blonde with an almost unbearable amount of fondness, her arms coming up to rest on Jinsoul’s shoulders as she winds her hands around the back of the taller girl’s neck, her fingers playing with the loose wisps of hair hanging haphazardly from the sloppy bun piled at the top of Jinsoul’s head.

Pressing their foreheads together, Jungeun nudges her nose against Jinsoul’s before giving her one final squeeze and pushing her towards the bathroom.

“Take your time. I’ll be back in a few,” Jungeun calls out, grabbing the takeout bag on her way out and shutting the door behind her.

Humming quietly to herself, Jinsoul takes a few moments to look at her surroundings. She’s been to Jungeun’s apartment before, so the sight is nothing new. It’s familiar, even. Unlike Jinsoul’s apartment— cluttered, attached, personal— Jungeun’s loft lacks the telltale signs of an established home. Her furniture and layout is minimalistic, the walls a barren white. She has a couch, television, coffee table, dining table, a few chairs and lamps scattered about— the basic essentials. 

What Jungeun doesn’t have, though, are the things that would make her cold, wide, empty, luxurious loft more than _just_ a loft. She doesn’t have pictures of her family and friends scattered around the tables and walls, doesn’t have worn books with dog-eared pages piled into her shelves, doesn’t have the sound of laughter and love bouncing around the air, just the deafening sound of constant silence.

She has empty walls, empty rooms, and an empty home.

(Jinsoul likes to think Jungeun brings her here so often because she makes it feel a little more like a home. Less empty. Less lonely.)

Jinsoul takes a quick shower, using Jungeun’s hair and body wash to wipe away the grime of the day and letting the hot water wash whatever else remains from her body down the drain. Changing into some sweats she had left there a few weeks ago and one of Jungeun’s old t-shirts, Jinsoul comes out to see her food laid out carefully on the coffee table in front of the hanging television set and Jungeun already sitting comfortably on the couch. She had changed out of her work clothes, her thin body now adorned in a worn sweatshirt and a pair of comfortable shorts.

Jinsoul feels better once she sinks into her place beside Jungeun, more awake and less on the verge of sleepwalking. Shooting the other girl a (still tired) lopsided smile, Jinsoul eagerly reaches for her food, letting out a muffled groan as the taste awakens her taste buds and settles into the back of her mouth.

“ _Woah_ ,” Jinsoul mutters, her mouth puffed out to the side as she continues to chew. “I didn’t even realize how hungry I was.”

Jungeun, still looking at her with that unrestrained fondness, lets out a small laugh as she passively watches Jinsoul scarf down her meal with a content gleam in her eyes.

“Sometimes you get too busy to think about being hungry,” Jungeun says while reaching over for a napkin, her hands wiping away the small splatters of sauce decorating the edges of Jinsoul’s mouth. “It happens to me all the time.”

Jinsoul snorts, “Usually thinking about food gets me through the day.”

Looking down at her empty takeout container, Jinsoul’s lips twist downwards at the edges into a slight frown. She ate so fast she doesn’t even really remember what the food tasted like. Though, it’s a small price to pay for the now happily sated sensation she feels situated in the pit of her stomach, the fullness replacing the grating hunger and painful fatigue of earlier.

“Speaking of your day, tell me about it while I clean up and set up the movie,” Jungeun offers, her hands already grappling to collect the now empty containers and moving to toss them into her trash can. “I’ve been out of the loop, I’m gonna need some updates.”

The wonderful feeling of fullness leaves Jinsoul’s stomach almost as quickly as it settles there, being unkindly replaced by the all too familiar feeling of guilt. Shame crawls up from the abyss of her stomach and begins it’s ascent up her throat, making it hard for her to speak.

“Yeah,” Jinsoul sighs disheartened. “Again, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jungeun waves her off as she returns from the kitchen, grabbing the remote and switching the screen to Netflix. “I told you, I understand. You’ve been really busy.”

“Still not an excuse,” Jinsoul grumbles with furrowed brows, crossing her arms over her chest as she sinks lower into the couch. “You’re busy all the time and you can still manage a social life.”

Jungeun snorts at that, her lips stretching into a wiry smile, “I wouldn’t call having one friend a social life.”

“What do you mean?” Jinsoul tilts her head minutely to the left, damp hair falling in loose strands across her shoulder. “You’re the CEO, you’re looked up to and respected. Everyone loves you.”

“Looked up to? Sure, you could say that,” Jungeun shrugs as she continues to scroll through Netflix meticulously. “Respected, that too.”

She stops scrolling for a second, pausing. If Jinsoul had not been watching her so closely, she would’ve probably missed the way Jungeun’s jaw clenched for a split second and her eyes broke contact.

Recovering, Jungeun shakes her head softly, the ghost of a bitter smile floating onto her lips. “But loved? Not so much.”

_I love you_ , Jinsoul thinks as she watches Jungeun stoically stare at the television as she searches for a movie. _I love you and they’re idiots if they don’t see what I see._

(But, as Jinsoul continues her one-way staring contest with the girl beside her, in an odd way she’s grateful that there aren’t others vying for Jungeun’s love, affection, and attention. She could never compete in college and she isn’t looking to repeat past mistakes.)

“Sometimes I have to make the hard calls and people don’t like that,” Jungeun sounds more dejected than frustrated, as if she’s simply given into the opinions of others as a force of nature she has no hand in changing. “It’s my job, I don’t mind. In all honesty, I’d rather be looked up to and respected than loved.”

Jungeun shrugs off the heaviness lingering in the atmosphere, still refusing to meet Jinsoul’s imploring gaze with her own disconsolate one.

“Are you ready for the movie? Let me know if you want anything else to eat or drink or if you would rather just go to bed. I know you’ve had a long day and I wouldn’t want to keep you up so don’t feel like—”

“—Jungeun, slow down,” Jinsouls breathes out a laugh, the sympathy in her eyes being replaced with an overflowing fondness. “Now look who’s interrupting who.”

An embarrassed huff escapes Jungeun’s chest as she turns to stare at Jinsoul, the corners of her lips dancing upwards into a semblance of a smile, “Please, that was nothing compared to the mess you were earlier.”

“You’re right,” Jinsoul’s lips mirror Jungeun’s, although while the other girl’s expressions are reserved, Jinsoul’s are wide and open— loud and large, her eyes crinkling into crescents as she speaks. “But I’m _always_ a mess. It’s a bigger deal when you slip up.”

“Hey,” Jungeun narrows her eyebrows in faux offense. “You’re not _always_ a mess. A majority of the time, for sure, but not always.”

“Remind me why I agreed to hang out with you tonight,” Jinsoul grumbles, throwing her limp body into the opposite end of the couch. “You’re mean.”

“You’re the one who suggested it,” Jungeun voices, her tone light and airy. “And I’m glad you did. It was getting pretty boring here without you.”

Gesturing to the potted vegetation placed carefully on the windowsill, Jungeun looks over at Jinsoul who had burrowed her face into her couch’s large throw pillows. “Even my plants missed you. Look how much happier they are when you’re here.”

Jinsoul’s head pops up from its place in the cushions, a beaming smile displayed carelessly on her flushed cheeks. “Are you sure your plants are the only ones that missed me?”

“You know what, you’re right,” Jungeun nods to herself seriously before pointing in the direction of her kitchen. “My coffee maker missed you, too. I think it got attached to you and your caffeine addiction.”

Rolling her eyes, Jinsoul scoots her body towards Jungeun’s end of the cough with a small pout flickering on and off her lips, “As I said, you’re mean.”

Shuffling her body into a more comfortable position, Jungeun takes advantage of Jinsoul’s closer proximity as she wraps her arms around the older girl’s torso and pulls her into her chest. Letting out a huff at the sudden movement as well as her new place on Jungeun’s rising and falling front, Jinsoul rests her chin on Jungeun’s sternum and directs a playful glare at the smug girl beneath her.

“I’m _always_ big spoon,” Jinsoul’s eyes narrow threateningly at Jungeun, the other girl’s eyes twinkling with a lively youthfulness.

“Not tonight. You’re exhausted, so tonight you’re the little spoon,” Jungeun declares as she reaches for the remote and presses play on the movie, pulling a thin blanket over Jinsoul’s relaxed body before lying back down.

“This is a one time thing,” Jinsoul mutters as she snuggles closer into Jungeun’s warm body, feeling the other girl’s arms wind around her back and pull her in deeper. “I’m not little spoon material.”

“I beg to differ,” Jungeun teases with a matching smile. “You’re doing great for a first timer.”

“Shut up,” Jinsoul yawns, her body becoming more pliant with every stroke of Jungeun’s hands down her back or fingers through her hair. “I’m good at everything I do.”

“You would sound more threatening if you weren’t doing those cute yawns every other second,” Jungeun lets out a smile when Jinsoul groans lowly as Jungeun’s fingers thread delicately through her hair.

Jinsoul’s lips spread into a soft smirk, the expression pressing softly into the skin above Jungeun’s collarbones where Jinsoul’s face was resting. “You just called me cute.”

Hands faltering their movements in Jinsoul’s hair, Jungeun sputters before speaking, “What? No— I did _not_ call you cute.”

“You called my yawns cute,” Jinsoul says confidently. “So, by association, you called me cute.”

“I did not.”

“Indirectly, yes you did.”

Jungeun groans in annoyance, her cheeks turning a subdued shade of light pink. “You’re so annoying. Pay attention to the movie.”

Smiling smugly, Jinsoul turns her head to face the screen and indulges in the tranquil silence that follows, the only noise coming from the troubled characters on the screen. And, for the first time in weeks, Jinsoul feels herself let go.

Her limbs slacken as she sinks further into Jungeun’s welcoming body, letting the inordinate amounts of stress, fatigue, and misery that had weighed down on her for so long topple off her shoulders in one fell swoop. Jungeun’s steady breaths and the unconscious way the younger girl winds her arms around Jinsoul’s slack form to keep her close slows the racing thoughts in Jinsoul’s mind to something more manageable— something more her speed.

For the first time in weeks, Jinsoul feels herself breathe, think, and enjoy the moments where she is authentically and unarguably happy.

Digging one of her hands in the space between Jungeun’s back and the couch, Jinsoul tugs herself even closer to the other girl’s front, her remaining hand resting on the side of Jungeun’s stomach as she loosely grips the fabric of her sweater in her fingers.

She’s content, the rise and fall of Jungeun’s chest as she inhales and exhales even breathes of air complimenting the faint narration of the film while Jinsoul nuzzles her face further into the space between Jungeun’s neck and chin.

Jungeun’s voice breaks the silence, her words quiet and whispered in secret. “I missed this, you know.”

Jinsoul smiles into Jungeun’s neck, keeping her eyes glued to the screen while the other girl speaks.

“I lied earlier,” Jungeun continues, her fingers still tracing patterns along Jinsoul’s back and tangling soothingly into Jinsoul’s hair. “When I said no one else missed you.”

“I know,” Jinsoul murmurs, careful not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere. “You’re a really bad liar.”

“Not really,” Jungeun shrugs. “You’ve always just been really good at seeing right through me.”

“Maybe,” Jinsoul contends, her fingers tug at Jungeun’s sweater. “Or maybe it’s a bit of both.”

Jungeun breaks into a small smile, her lips just barely tugging upwards as she risks a quick glance at the girl glued to her chest. “Yeah, maybe.”

A few beats of silence pass before Jinsoul speaks again. “So, who’s the kind neighbor that let you use her microwave? Jiwoo, right?”

“Yeah, Jiwoo,” Jungeun smiles at the name, Jinsoul’s heart beating paces faster as she feels Jungeun’s fingers move to the nape of her neck to play with the loose strands of hair. “She lives a few doors down. She’s really sweet, you guys would get along great.”

“Well, she let you heat up your food in her microwave,” Jinsoul agrees. “If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.”

“It’s funny, we actually went to the same high school. We didn’t know each other or talk or anything but it’s still a little crazy to think about.”

(Jinsoul loves moments like this, moments where Jungeun just talks and talks and Jinsoul can just close her eyes and listen. She always has loved the sound of Jungeun’s voice.)

“That is crazy,” Jinsoul quirks her neck to look up at Jungeun, only to find the other girl already looking down at her. “Maybe you weren’t meant to know her then, but you were meant to know her now. You know, timing and all that.”

Jungeun snorts, “Yeah, timing. I guess you could say that. We first met when I was moving in. She caught me before I fell down the stairs while carrying all the boxes of my things, so her timing is pretty great.”

Jinsoul winces at the mental image of Jungeun lying at the bottom of a staircase with her body buried beneath miscellaneous items and cardboard boxes. Jungeun’s face is too pretty to be covered by boring boxes.

“Remind me to thank her. Your skinny arms have never packed too big of a punch,” Jinsoul coos as she squeezes Jungeun’s forearms, letting out a sharp laugh as the other girl swats her hands away.

“On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t let you two meet,” Jungeun huffs. “You guys would have a field day with me.”

Jinsoul’s eyes light up as she lets a gasp of faux enthusiasm break from her chest. “Now I _really_ need to meet this girl!”

“You actually may be meeting her pretty soon. She’s a pretty well-known photographer, I think I remember her mentioning taking pictures at New York Fashion Week,” Jungeun explains, her hands returning to their resting position on Jinsoul’s back. “You’re doing some shows, right?”

“Yep,” Jinsoul says, popping her ‘p’ as she nods in confirmation. “I should be walking on Friday.”

“I’m pretty sure Jiwoo is working Friday! Maybe she’ll take some good pictures of you,” Jungeun’s voice is edged with excitement. “I’ll let her know to keep her eye out…or, well, her camera out for you.”

Jinsoul chuckles, her shoulders shaking lightly and jostling Jungeun’s body with the slight movements. “Show me what she looks like and I’ll be sure to look for her in the crowd.”

Jinsoul hesitates before voicing what she wants to say next.

“I wouldn’t mind looking for you too,” Jinsoul says slowly, her normally delayed voice moving half a second slower. “You know, in the crowd.”

Jungeun’s quiet for a few seconds after that, the nerves fluttering aimlessly in Jinsoul’s stomach turning into a heavy dread as the silence persists.

“Are you asking me to come to your show?” Jungeun says after a few more moments, her voice teasing and brimming with weightless delight.

“I’m just saying if you _wanted_ to come, you _could,_ ” Jinsoul grumbles. “And…I guess it would be nice to see you there. Not to just watch me, obviously. I just mean that New York Fashion Week shows in general are pretty cool and since you already have an in with me, it would be easier if you came to my show because I could get you a seat— well, not _my_ show. I’m just a model, I didn’t do any of the actual _planning_ , I just get paid to walk down the runway. Which you could see me do in person if you came. Not that it’s all that exciting or anything but, I don’t know, maybe you’ll have a good time and _why_ haven’t you cut me off yet. You usually stop me before I get this far.”

Jinsoul scoots her body upward, her cheeks flushed as an aftereffect of her nonsensical ramble. She’s met with the amused face of Jungeun, Jinsoul’s eyebrows furrowing as she watches the other girl’s lips spread into a wide, blinding grin.

“If I had known that not interrupting you would’ve been that entertaining, I would’ve stopped doing it a while ago.”

Jinsoul’s eyes soften as she sees the rare sight of Jungeun _smiling_.

(She puts an emphasis on the word ‘smile’ because most of the time, Jungeun’s smiles weren’t _really_ smiles. They looked authentic, sure, but Jinsoul’s seen enough of Jungeun’s real smiles to make the distinction.

She knows this one’s real because Jungeun’s eyes match her grin. They sparkle with the same unrestricted splendor that’s so visible on her face and are narrowed into happy crescents as they make room for the spread of her lips. She knows it’s real because it’s not accompanied by sarcasm, scorn, or the seething bite of her words.

Jinsoul knows Jungeun’s real smiles and this is one of them.)

“I’m glad that my inability to talk is entertaining to you,” Jinsoul scoffs halfheartedly, using her arms to push herself off of Jungeun’s chest and into a sitting position on her lap.

Jungeun’s hands follow Jinsoul as she moves, coming to rest on the high point of her hips as she stares up at her tenderly.

“Anyway,” Jinsoul continues, her voice quiet and her eyes anxiously looking at everything but the girl beneath her, actively avoiding Jungeun’s imploring gaze. “I know you’re probably really busy so don’t feel like you have to say yes because it’s seriously okay if you have work or something else to do. Just thought I’d ask.”

When Jinsoul finally allows her eyes to land on Jungeun, she fixates on the soft way the other girl is looking at her. A part of Jungeun’s expression is unreadable as she regards Jinsoul, her neck slightly crooked as she rests the side of her head against the couch.

“I’ll be there.”

Jinsoul does a double-take, her eyes owlishly blinking at Jungeun as her mouth opens, shuts, and opens again. “You’ll be there?”

Jungeun nods her head in confirmation. “I’ll be there. Just give me the date and the exact time. I’ll make sure my schedule is clear.”

Jinsoul blinks. “…Okay. Yeah, I’ll text you,” She blinks again. “You’re _really_ going to come?” Another blink.

“Of course,” Jungeun almost looks offended at the notion that she _wouldn’t_ come, that she wouldn’t be there to support Jinsoul. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

(Maybe this is why Jinsoul loves Jungeun. Looking past the rest of it, Jungeun has always been there for Jinsoul. Every important piano recital, embarrassing poetry reading, failed art show, spontaneous coffee shop performance, Jungeun _always_ shows up _,_ especially when she knows it means something to Jinsoul.)

“I— thank you Jungeun,” Jinsoul grabs one of the hands placed lightly on her hips, intertwining their fingers and encapsulating their combined warmth.

“Just make sure to look for me in the crowd too, okay?” Jungeun whispers with a smile.

Jinsoul doesn’t respond— she feels like she doesn’t really need to. They both know Jinsoul looks for Jungeun even when she’s not in the room. Instead, Jinsoul just stares at the girl below her, letting Jungeun play with her fingers at her side as she continues to look.

Removing her hands from Jungeun’s, Jinsoul places her palms flat on Jungeun’s upper chest, feeling the girl’s heart beat steadily from its home beneath the surface. Leaning down, Jinsoul sees Jungeun’s eyes widen, the younger girl’s eyes flickering unnoticeably down to Jinsoul’s lips as her own part in a soft awe.

Jinsoul kisses her.

Well, not in the way she wants to, but she thinks the jarring swoop she feels in the pit of her stomach as she presses her lips fleetingly to Jungeun’s forehead is a clear indicator that she’s not ready for anything more than this right now.

_Another time,_ Jinsoul tells herself as she continues to press light kisses to the entirety of Jungeun’s face as the other girl squirms weakly beneath her. _I’ll do it another time._

“Soul,” Jungeun whines, her lips breaking into an unbearably wide grin as she tries to push the older girl off, her hands pressing unconvincingly into Jinsoul’s shoulders. “You’re so annoying.”

“You said that already,” Jinsoul chuckles, not ceasing her relentless attack on Jungeun’s bright red face. There she goes, blushing again.

“Oh my God,” Jungeun groans dismay, turning her head to the side to avoid further embarrassment. “On second thought, I think I have meetings that day. A lot of them.”

Jinsoul laughs hotly into her neck, contently burying her face into the soft warmth. “Liar. Just admit you’re excited to see me look super hot walking across the runway.”

Jungeun lets out a half snort, half choking sound, her face (somehow) flushing an even deeper shade of red. “That’s not— _no_. If anything, I’m excited to see you hopefully fall flat on your dumb face.”

“Dumb face?” Jinsoul looks up in confusion, pouting. “But you called it cute earlier.”

“I called your _yawns_ cute,” Jungeun grumbles. “You’re the one who made the other connection.”

Jinsoul shrugs, “Whatever, you’ll change your mind when you see what I’m wearing...I’m walking last. That’s super important, you know? Closing the show.”

“Oh I’m sure,” Jungeun rolls her eyes, a half smile replacing the embarrassed grimace on her face seconds ago. “Cause you’re just so important, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” Jinsoul mutters, the fatigue that had been alleviated by Jungeun’s faithful smile and safe presence returning as her heartbeat calmed down, a stark contrast against Jungeun’s own racing beat. “Would you call me cute if I yawned again?”

“I’m never calling you cute again,” Jungeun voices, the flame in her cheeks calming down to a more manageable glow, a blushing pink painting the surface of her skin.

Jinsoul yawns, her eyes shutting tightly as she stretches her arms out from beside her. Opening one eye to glance up at Jungeun, Jinsoul smiles smugly as she sees the other girl looking down at her with a fond and vulnerable expression.

“I think I’ll manage,” Jinsoul’s body sleepily sinks into Jungeun’s, her lips folding into a delicate pout when she doesn't feel Jungeun’s arms lift to wrap around her.

“Tired?” Jungeun scoots her body forward, Jinsoul letting out a quiet puff in protest.

“Mhm, a bit,” Jinsoul really likes the way Jungeun’s arms feel wrapped around her body. She’s never been one for excessive physical touch, but with Jungeun it’s different. With Jungeun, she craves it.

(She used to wonder why that was. Back in college, when her feelings were strangled, shoved, and stifled down into something intangible, something not really _there,_ she always wondered why she wouldn’t push Jungeun away when the younger girl would pull Jinsoul into her arms.

She knows the answer now, though.)

“Let’s get you to bed,” Jungeun’s voice is light, gravitating lazily through the air as she moves to sit up, pulling Jinsoul’s limp body with her.

Too tired to do anything but nod in agreement, Jinsoul lets herself be dragged from her comfortable spot on Jungeun’s couch (or on Jungeun) to the other girl’s bedroom that sits at the top of the lonely staircase resting in the center of Jungeun’s loft.

Jungeun is holding her hand as she drags a stumbling Jinsoul up the wooden steps leading to her bed. It’s enough of a distraction to make her footsteps fumble and her breaths break unevenly, but as she makes out the dimly lit outline of their intertwined hands, Jinsoul really can’t help but smile.

When they reach the top of the staircase, she’s surprised when Jungeun’s hand remains locked securely within her own, the other girl’s grip strengthening as she gently pulls Jinsoul to the edge of her bed.

“You can sleep here tonight,” Jungeun whispers, not dropping Jinsoul’s hand as she uses her free one to drag back the thick red comforter and white sheets covering her mattress. “Let me just grab a blanket for the couch and I’ll be out of your hair.”

But, when Jungeun’s grip slackens, Jinsoul's grip tightens. And, when Jungeun’s eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise, Jinsoul’s eyes narrow ever so slightly in amusement, the corners crinkling as her lips lift into a familiarly soft smile.

“Just get in bed, Jungeun,” Jinsoul murmurs, pulling the stiff girl down onto the bed as she falls into the sheets.

“You sure?” Jungeun’s voice is a whisper, barely making its way to Jinsoul’s listening ears as the younger girl sits uncomfortably at the edge of her mattress, one leg hanging off as if prepared to leave at Jinsoul’s first word.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Jinsoul settles into the sheets, nestling her tired body into the pillowy mattress and unbearably soft sheets of Jungeun’s bed.

Jungeun stays quiet, her eyes still reflecting shadows and shimmers of hesitation as her fingers lightly grip the layers of fabric beneath her. Jinsoul watches her carefully from her place under the sheets, struggling to remain impassive while her arms are itching to reach out and yank Jungeun down into the empty space beside her.

(This is the first time Jinsoul has actually _struggled_ getting Jungeun into bed with her. Platonically, of course.

Although, even Jinsoul had suspicions about the nature of their college bed-sharing habits. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, even herself.)

Jinsoul can see the left-over traces of conflict and indecision battle against her desire to sink into the space beside Jinsoul, the collision of opposing urges splashing against the surface of Jungeun’s brown eyes.

Jinsoul’s lips lift into a silent smile when she sees the latter desire win out.

Hesitantly shuffling her body under the sheets, Jungeun stiffly lays herself down at the edge of the bed. Jinsoul’s worried that if Jungeun moves an inch, she’ll be spending her night sprawled out on the floor at the base of her bed frame. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, Jinsoul would argue.

The darkness provides a nice blanket of anonymity for them. Jungeun’s sharp features are gracefully softened by the comfortable white glow of moonlight, Jinsoul only barely being able to make out the slope of her nose, edges of her jawline, and curve of her lips.

The more she stares, though, the clearer they become. And the clearer they become, the more Jinsoul can make out Jungeun staring right back at her.

(Jinsoul would be lying if she said her heart didn’t flutter with some sort of feeling at the blurry and soft-edged sight. And, if Jinsoul’s proud of one thing in her life, it would be her steadfast inclination towards truth-telling.

The only exception to that would probably be situations involving Sooyoung but Jinsoul cuts herself some slack considering the other girl’s impressively commendable knack for getting on her nerves.)

Reaching out, her fingers gliding through the darkness and becoming partially illuminated by the slices of moonlight falling weightlessly into the still room, Jinsoul lets herself indulge. She figures if there’s any time she’s going to consciously let herself succumb to her selfish whims, it would be in the late hours of the night (or would it be early hours of the morning? To be completely honest, time has become all but a concept to Jinsoul), where she could excuse and blame her actions on her fatigue-ridden mind and the comfort of darkness that engulfs them if need be.

She feels more than hears the quiet rush of air that leaves the other girl’s lips as Jinsoul lets her fingers brush against the edges of Jungeun’s face ever so softly, carefully placing the misplaced strands of hair back into their rightful places. Her fingers continue their delicate journey across Jungeun’s supple skin, coming to a rest as she curls her hand into the space on Jungeun’s neck behind her ear.

Jinsoul finds it a bit funny, honestly, that her idea of ‘indulging’ and ‘letting go of her boundaries’ almost entirely involves touching Jungeun. Showing affection. Showing love through touch.

Since she’s so historically and notoriously incompetent with words, maybe touch can be her chosen medium of expression. It’s indirect, yes, and open to misinterpretation, but Jinsoul thinks it’s better than nothing. Better than just closing her eyes and drifting into a dreamless sleep.

(She rarely dreams nowadays.)

As Jinsoul continues to fight the battle between her desire to keep looking at Jungeun and slip into that familiar void of darkness, she reasons she’s been awake for days. What’s a few more minutes?

It seems like Jungeun’s not in the mood to talk either, the younger girl’s body scooting closer to Jinsoul’s. Her face is only a breath away from Jinsoul’s at this point. She has to make a conscious effort to stop her hands from wandering and searching Jungeun’s now unbearably close body, has to resist the urge to let her thumb swipe across the lips that seem to be tauntingly near her own.

Instead, Jinsoul lets the hand on Jungeun’s neck slide downwards to wrap around the other girl’s slim waist, pulling her flush against her front with one weak tug.

(Jinsoul notes it doesn’t take much to get Jungeun closer. She isn’t necessarily resisting.

The thought makes her heart beat a few pulses faster, although she has to slow it down when she realizes Jungeun’s close enough to hear any irregularities, to feel them.)

When she feels Jungeun press herself closer into her body, the other girl’s forehead resting comfortably in the space between her collarbones and the slope of her neck, Jinsoul moves her hand from Jungeun’s waist to the back of her head, threading her fingers through Jungeun’s hair in one clean motion.

The puffs of warm breath fanning out against her neck makes Jinsoul smile. She feels good having Jungeun this close.

“Go to sleep, Soul,” Jungeun’s tired voice breaks quietly through the concoction of darkness and silence.

Jinsoul hums, her fingers moving soothingly through Jungeun’s hair. “You first.”

Her smile widens minutely as she feels Jungeun let out a huff of air against her skin, most likely out of indignation. Not that Jinsoul’s skilled in the art of deduction or anything, but with the way she feels Jungeun’s fingers flex in annoyance from where they were trapped against Jinsoul’s stomach and Jungeun’s nose nudge against her neck in exasperation, she thinks she’s got this one right.

“You’re impossible,” Jungeun sighs, her head shaking slightly.

Too tired to grin goofily like she normally would, Jinsoul lets out another simple hum in agreement. “Maybe, but you love me anyway.”

A pause.

In Jinsoul’s mind, the pause is long. She doesn’t like long pauses, especially when she’s said something _dumb_ just before said pause is put into effect. It drags on with its intimidating layers of uncertainty and hesitation leaving an exponentially expanding mess of humiliation and regret with each passing second. 

“Yeah,” Jinsoul’s breath sticks uncomfortably in her chest at the sound of Jungeun’s voice. “I guess I do.”

_I guess?_ The small voice that Jinsoul swears she may name her mortal enemy rings distractingly inside her head. _We’ll take an ‘I guess’…I guess._

Jinsoul presses her chin down onto the top of Jungeun’s head with a small smile. “Night, Jungeun.”

“Goodnight, Jinsoul.”

When she falls asleep, Jinsoul’s dreams of shy touches, flushed cheeks, and blinding smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm, hey! lol. okay let me get the whole i'm sorry it took so long to update blah blah blah out of the way cuz i am very sorry. life gets busy and i'm such a slow writer so the two combined is a recipe for disaster (aka incredibly long periods of time between updates).
> 
> anyways, thank u so much for reading! i'm sorry that this chapter was kind of filler-ish and was literally just two incredibly long parts/scenes. i don't even know how i feel abt it so hopefully it was still somewhat enjoyable and hopefully it won't take me half a year to get out the next part.
> 
> as always, comment if u want and i'll be sure to shower u w all my appreciation in the replies. see u in the next one!

**Author's Note:**

> omg hey everyone, it's been a while! remember when i said i'd be back w something soon on my last one...lol. anyway, i've had this in my drafts for a while now and it was supposed to be a one-shot but kind of just ended up turning into whatever this is. the downfalls of being an overwriter, raise ur hand if u agree.
> 
> all that aside, i hope u guys enjoyed the first part of this lipsoul mess. tell me how u feel abt it in the comments so i can talk to u!
> 
> thanks for reading, see u guys on the next update (or for loona's september cb, whichever happens first...i'd place ur bets on loona).


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